


Constellation of Scars

by Severus_divides_into_H



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Asperger Syndrome, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Language, Obsessive Behavior, Past Relationship(s), Possessive Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-05 03:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severus_divides_into_H/pseuds/Severus_divides_into_H
Summary: The taste of death was still sharp on his tongue, the need for violence still burning in his veins, when Nigel saw him.Him, with beauty that knew no rivals, with innocence that begged for corruption. A customer in his bar, all chocolate curls and lost eyes and vacant face.Nigel watched him. And watched him. And watched him.Until watching was no longer enough.





	1. The Roots of Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) This is a Spacedogs story. For those who don't know (since I myself learned way too late about this wonderful ship) - Nigel is Mads' dangerous criminal of a character, and Adam is Hugh's lovely character with Asperger Syndrome. 
> 
> This story takes place after both movies. The only things you should know if you haven't watched them is that Nigel had a wife Gabi/She couldn't deal with his criminal world and fell in love with a man named Charlie/Nigel didn't take it well. Adam is learning to be more independent after the death of his father/after being dumped by his girlfriend.

Moving to California was a shitty decision.

Staying in Bucharest was fucking impossible.

Leaning against the glassy wall of his club office, Nigel stared at the dancing mass of people, trying to feel what he had felt before.

Lust. Hunger. Satisfaction. Knowledge that there, among the crowd, at the bar, his one and only was waiting for him, cheerful and slutty and eager.

Now there was fucking nothing. Gabi — sweet, darling, traitorous Gabi was gone, together with Charlie fucking Countryman, running after him even to the death itself.

During months spent in the hospital, Nigel let his fury boil. It was slowly simmering under the surface, filling him with poisonous bile and anger, and the need for revenge.

Less than ten fucking percent survived gunshot to the head, and if Nigel was among them, he was going to make his survival fucking count.

His attempt at suicide at the hands of a green cop was spontaneous, evoked by the eviscerating pain of seeing Gabi look at another like she used to look at him, hearing her scream his name, and worst of all — lying for him. Lying to Nigel, to her fucking husband.

In that moment, nothing mattered. Nothing at all.

But after he opened his eyes... finding the greasy, ugly runt and killing him was Nigel's only option.

Violence grounded him. Violence gave him meaning.

Charlie didn't really plead for his life. When Nigel pressed the gun to his forehead, to the same exact place where he himself had been shot, Charlie laughed shakily and whispered, "She chose me. She chose me, she chose me, she chose me, you fucker..."

Nigel's hand was steady when he shot him, and as Charlie's blood painted his face in red, he felt vindicated.

And then, again — nothing.

He did fall to pieces when he heard that Gabi had committed a suicide, and after that, staying in Bucharest, walking down the streets where they had fallen in love, where he'd first heard her music, became unbearable.

With Darko's assistance, he got everything in order and relocated to the first fucking city he'd seen on the map.

Flintridge. What a fucking dump.

Nigel opened a club out of desire to do something and to keep himself busy. Here, in the world of drugs, sex, and dirt, he should have felt at home, but the emptiness and constant frustration haunted him. He could still feel the warmth of Charlie's blood on his skin, and if that feeling had the potential to be pleasant, it was now forever poisoned by realization that Gabi's blood was right there as well, mixed with his.

Sighing, Nigel turned his back to the dancing crowd and grabbed a bottle of scotch.

Drinking didn't help. Fucking left him cold. Beating the shit out of drunk customers was useless against the targetless, frustrated aggression burning in his veins.

Same fucking thing every fucking day.

That bullet should have fucking killed him.

 

 

***

 

It was another bleak Tuesday when everything changed.

 

 

***

 

Nigel was observing the crowd as he did most evenings, slowly drinking himself into stupor, when his eyes accidentally stopped at one of the darker corners of his club.

And then he saw him.

A young man, practically a boy, sitting at the table — immovable, like a statue, with a bright blue drink in front of him.

Pale face. Dark, curly locks of hair. Delicate features.

Beautiful.

Nigel took a sip of scotch, purposefully looking away. For a while, he tried to concentrate on other people, but his gaze kept going back to the lonely figure.

Interesting.

Really fucking interesting.

Nigel's scotch had long since ended, but the young man kept sitting at his table, without touching his blue drink, just staring at others attentively. Sometimes he began to twitch nervously, but then visibly schooled himself and turned into a stone again.

Nigel watched him till the very end, until the clock struck eleven and the boy left. His drink remained untouched.

That night, Gabi didn't come to his dreams.

But he still dreamed of blood.

 

 

***

 

At seven o’clock sharp, the boy returned and took the place at the same table as yesterday. He ordered a blue drink again but didn’t attempt to touch it, and for the first time in a while, Nigel felt a weak jab of curiosity.

Why order a drink that was obviously not to his tastes? Why sit in the corner, especially with a face like that? All people would jump this boy in a heartbeat if they could actually see him in that corner.

For hours, the young man kept watching people, and Nigel kept watching him. He changed the bottles of scotch without noticing it, though a queasy feeling in his stomach meant that he’d definitely drunk too much.

Could it be a fucking cop? Seedy clubs like Nigel’s always attracted attention, and considering the number of similar places in Flintridge, he frankly expected the visit much sooner.

But what fucking cop would be this fucking obvious? No, it was something else. Something else entirely.

Eleven o’clock — and the boy left.

Was he on a fucking timetable or something?

 

 

***

 

 

Two weeks of watching was fucking ridiculous. _Nigel_ was ridiculous, because staring at the stranger for hours every day without trying to talk to him was unhealthy as fuck.

Then again, he had never been a healthy man. His obsessions led to his downfall more than once, and Nigel honestly thought that the latest one had put a stop to it. It cost him his fucking wife, his Gabi, and after that, what was left in him to feel interest?

Yet he did — he was feeling it now, although Nigel had no idea whether he wanted to fuck the boy, gut him, or simply talk.

“Stop this madness immediately,” Darko hissed from somewhere behind his back. Nigel raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“Seriously,” Darko continued sharply, “stop this. This is bad for you. You’ve been a wreck since Gabriella, but time has passed, Nigel. A lot of time has passed. I hoped this club would help you get back on feet, but now I see I was mistaken. It only reinforces your instability.”

“Fuck off,” Nigel scowled. “I didn’t exactly invite you here, so why the fuck did you come at all? Bucharest got too fucking loud for you?”

“I wanted to see how you were.”

Still scowling, Nigel ignored him. It was almost eleven, which meant that his mysterious stranger was going to leave. He looked especially good today, and Nigel couldn’t take his fucking eyes off him.

“Okay, that’s it,” Darko forcibly grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to the door. Stunned, Nigel almost tripped, and then whirled around, glaring.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked dangerously. His fists were vibrating with the need to mar Darko’s skin with bruises, but the idiotic man didn’t seem to be overly concerned.

“Go talk to him,” he said calmly. “Ask for his name, ask whatever the fuck you want. He’s likely some dumb kid who’s too shy to speak up, and if that’s what you need to overcome your newest obsession, go. See for yourself if he’s even worth it.”

For a minute, Nigel watched Darko with narrowed eyes, but he had to admit that his words made fucking sense. Looking was for pussies, and Nigel was anything but that.

“Don’t touch my fucking drinks,” he warned, but Darko just rolled his eyes.

The majority of people were already too drunk to pay attention to him, so Nigel approached the bar and tapped against its polished surface.

“Mary,” he said. The girl looked up and paled immediately.

“Sir!” she exclaimed. “What can I do for you, do you need more drinks delivered to your office?”

“No, I fucking don’t. Who is this?” Nigel pointed at the boy.

“Oh,” Mary cleared her throat nervously, “his name is Adam. He’s a regular, but he never orders anything but one glass of Midnight Sky.”

At Nigel’s silence, the girl grew even more agitated.

“Should I ask him to leave?” she murmured. “Adam does nothing for the business, sir, but he also never causes any trouble, so I thought you wouldn’t mind—”

“Make him another drink.”

“What?”

“Are you fucking deaf?” Nigel growled. “Make him another fucking drink if he doesn’t like this one!”

“Okay,” Mary grabbed the bottle with liquor and paused. “Which one?”

“Whichever you fucking feel like doing.”

Soon the glossy red substance was sent to the stranger, and Nigel watched how Mary said something to him. The boy shook his head, clearly refusing to accept the drink, so Mary smiled and pointed at Nigel. The boy glanced at him, and Nigel blinked, seeing wide gray eyes staring at him in confusion.

He’d never thought about what innocence looked like. The notion itself was fucking ridiculous, because physical appearance couldn’t be the embodiment of love, or goodness, or fucking evil. Yet here he was — the picture of innocence, painfully unguarded and naïve. It was obvious even from here, so Nigel frowned, not sure what to think.

The boy quickly dropped his gaze and started to fidget, as if trying to understand what to do. Then he took a deep breath, stood up, grabbed his new red drink and walked over to Nigel.

Well.

It was going to be entertaining. Was he going to get a drink thrown at his face? That would be the first. People usually refrained from pissing off a man like him, armed with a permanent dangerous scowl, a strange tattoo on his neck, and a prominent scar from the headshot, right in the middle of his forehead.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Nigel drawled, leaning against the bar counter with a cold smirk. The boy — and yes, he definitely looked like a boy — frowned, glancing around before focusing on him again.

“My name is not George,” he said, and Nigel felt his eyebrows climb up his fucking forehead. Maybe he was way more drunk than he’d thought?

“I said gorgeous,” he clarified, and the boy — Adam — nodded, his expression not changing.

“I thought so, but I wasn’t sure why you would call me that so I decided to check. Did you send me this drink?”

Nigel shook his head, feeling strangely dejected. He wasn’t used to people being indifferent to him. They either hated him or lusted after him, despised him or fawned over him.

Or loved.

But Gabi had never loved him. Not really. She had loved a romantic picture she’s drawn in her mind, but as soon as undeniable truth intervened, all her love vanished like the fucking smoke.     

“No?” Adam frowned even more. “If you didn’t send me this drink, why did that girl lie?”

"She didn't fucking lie!" Jesus Christ. Talking had never been this fucking hard for Nigel — maybe he did need to cut down on drinking. "I sent you the drink because you didn't seem particularly interested in the one on your table. I thought you would like this one better."

"Oh!" The boy's cheeks flushed, and Nigel stared. Something within him twisted, shook, and began to grow, and Nigel tried to breathe, to stop the obsession from raising its ugly head — again.

He'd fucking learned his lesson. He had, and no stupid boy with a beautiful face would undermine it.

"It was nice of you," the boy said softly. "Thank you."

The silence hung between them, and Nigel tried again.

"So. Will you drink it?"

"No," Adam wrinkled his nose funnily. "It smells badly."

"And your first drink fucking doesn't?"

"It does," the boy readily admitted. "But it has a beautiful color. Blue. Like the sky at night."

Nigel was thrown.

"What the fuck are you even doing here?" he asked. "You don't dance, you don't talk to anyone, and you order your fucking drink because it has a nice color. Care to tell me what's the fucking point? Do you just like the interior or music here, or what?"

"No!" Adam exclaimed. "Not at all. The music is very loud, and there are so many people here all the time."

"Yeah?" Nigel was getting pissed off. "If you hate it, then why fucking come here every day?"

"You swear a lot," Adam casually remarked. "To answer your question, I come here to study people and to get used to being around them even when it makes me uncomfortable. I watch their interactions and it helps me form mine. I needed the most unpleasant place for this, so I chose this club."

This was too fucking much. And he wasn't fucking drunk enough for this shit.

Turning away, Nigel walked back to his office.

At least now he knew that he had no desire to talk to Adam again.

It was either fuck him or gut him, then.

 

 

***

 

Nigel decided he wouldn’t drink next evening. No conversation could possibly be as disastrous as yesterday’s seemed to be, so he was going to stay as sober as a fucking monk and make sure that the problem was with Adam, not with him.

Several hours after Adam’s arrival, Nigel approached his table and boldly occupied a place next to him, looking at him appreciatively. 

“I didn’t introduce myself last time,” he said. “My name is Nigel.”

“I’m Adam Raki, pleased to meet you,” Adam held out his hand, flashing a radiant smile at him. The phrase sounded fucking rehearsed, but at least Adam seemed friendlier today than yesterday.

Nigel shook his hand slowly, and stroked pale knuckles, unable to resist.

“The pleasure’s all mine, gorgeous,” he said, fascinated by the flush that once again graced Adam’s cheeks.

“I’m still not sure why you call me that,” he murmured. “When you use this word, do you mean “pleasant”, “attractive”, or “jaw-droppingly beautiful”? Because I found these three definitions last night and I can’t decide which one you imply.”

“You fucking searched the meaning of the word gorgeous?” Nigel asked, unsure if it was flattering or strange.

Well, at least he’d made some fucking impression.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Adam tilted his head, looking at him. “Are you a regular here, too?”

“You could say that. This club belongs to me.”

“Really?” Adam’s eyes widened. “That’s interesting. I’ve never met a club-owner before.”

Despite his words, Adam didn’t look impressed, so Nigel crossed his legs and took a cigarette out of his pocket. He tended to be confident in his abilities to charm others whenever he felt like it, so the insecurity that grew within him during conversations with Adam was surprising. Darko would laugh his fucking ass off if he heard it.

“Where do you work?” Nigel asked to fill the silence.

“In the Observatory,” Adam’s eyes brightened and he leaned closer to him, making Nigel freeze with the cigarette clenched between his teeth. “I’ve been engineering microchips there, for satellite guidance systems. Do you know anything about space?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Nigel answered slowly. Engineering fucking microchips? He must have been wrong in his assessment. Adam had to be older than he looked to do a job like that.

Adam opened his mouth in obvious excitement, but then closed it, and his expression became neutral again.

“Would you like to find out?” he asked politely, and Nigel shrugged.

“Sure,” he said. “It’s not like I have something better to do.”

In the next thirty minutes, he learned more about asteroids, black holes, and stars than he’d thought fucking existed. Adam did make pauses to ask him if he understood everything, and Nigel nodded silently, just to see him keep talking.

Adam’s reserved mask fell to pieces when he discussed space, and even his eyes seemed more green than gray in these moments. His voice was like music, as melodious as Gabi’s cello had been, and even though Nigel couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not, his strange fascination kept growing, starting to border on dangerous.

Beautiful, beautiful boy.

Adam’s voice broke and he cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Did I bore you?”

“None at all,” Nigel answered truthfully. He hadn’t understood the majority of information thrown at him, but looking at animated Adam was enjoyable.

More than enjoyable.

“Maybe you will drink your fucking cocktail now?” he asked softly. “Your throat must be parched.”

“Not really,” Adam shook his head, glancing at the blue liquid almost disdainfully. “There are too many dubious chemicals in these drinks. I prefer guava juice, but your bar does not have it, and the bartender said that to sit here, I have to order something. So I always ask for Midnight Sky, because it has the most pleasant color of all.”

Nigel smiled widely, although he had no idea what the fuck had caused it. Adam smiled at him as well, and warmth that filled him at the sight was unexpectedly welcome.

“I have to leave soon,” Adam said. “It’s almost eleven.”

“Too fucking early, if you ask me,” Nigel pushed his chair closer to Adam’s, wanting to touch but unsure how it would be received. He wouldn’t care with whores, but here, he had to proceed carefully.

Even if he didn’t know what it would lead to.

“I have work tomorrow,” a forlorn look entered Adam’s eyes, not at all like the one he’d had when talking about observatory. “And I have to sleep at least seven hours to feel good.”

“You don’t sound excited,” Nigel noted. “Why is that? If you love space this fucking much, I’d suppose working with satellites would be interesting to you?”

“I’m not working on microchips now,” Adam stared somewhere above Nigel’s shoulder unseeingly. “There is currently no work for me because I over-fulfilled the plan. So I have to give tours to people from nine to twelve and from two to four. I don’t like it much. They always stare like they don’t understand what I’m telling them. I try to use simple words but sometimes I forget who my audience is.”

“They must be fucking idiots,” Nigel said, and Adam seemed to consider this.

“I don’t think so,” he replied finally. “They don’t talk to me, because it’s my job, so I can’t really say if they are idiots. But they look as uncomprehending as you did.”    

Nigel stared at him, baffled.

“So it means that I’m a fucking idiot, too?” he clarified.

“No. Stupid people can’t own bars, can they?”

“I never thought about this,” Nigel signaled to Mary so she would bring him scotch. Time for his useless medication. “If you hate giving tours, why do you stay there? You are smart, you can find another fucking job.”

“No!” Adam started to shake his head, looking distressed. “I will have a new plan to follow soon, and if I left this job, I’d have to have more interviews, and maybe move to another city, and I already made a home here — I have a house, I know some people, I—”

“Hey, relax,” Nigel wrapped his hand around Adam’s neck, letting his fingers tangle in dark, curly hair. It had always soothed Gabi, but Adam just froze and seemed to stop breathing entirely. Panic did leave his eyes, though, so Nigel allowed his fingers to travel higher, exploring soft curls.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Adam asked curiously.

“How am I looking at you?” Nigel murmured, suddenly drunk on the feeling of being so close to the boy. The blush that colored Adam’s skin instead of an answer was so warm that Nigel ached to touch it, but something inside him stopped him from acting on it.

Too soon.

“I really have to go,” Adam murmured. He wasn’t meeting his eyes, and with a sigh, Nigel let go of him.

“See you tomorrow,” he said. “You will be here at seven.”

It sounded like an order and a threat simultaneously, but Adam, miraculously, didn’t seem to realize it.

“Yes,” he said simply, grabbed his jacket, and left.

Nigel kept staring at the door long after Adam had disappeared behind it.

 

 

***

 

 

Gabi was looking at him reproachfully, ethereal and tragic, condemning him for the life he had stolen from her. The words of apology burned on his tongue, but Nigel remained silent. To distract himself, he looked up, and the guilt retreated.

Vast, dark sky stretched above him, with thousands stars and planets.

 

 

***

 

 

He woke up from being kicked. Cursing in two languages at once, Nigel jumped to his feet only to see Darko staring him in annoyance.

“Nigel, you motherfucker,” he uttered, “what the hell have you stuffed your fridges with? What is this shit?” He waved a bright plastic bottle at him, and Nigel growled.

“Can’t you fucking read? It’s fucking guava juice.”

“I see it’s fucking guava juice, I’m asking what the hell is it doing in your fridge?”

“The regulars asked for it.”

Darko narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and then comprehension appeared on his face.

“You stupid, miserable idiot,” he said. “Is it Gabi number two, Nigel? Should I worry?”

“Fuck off,” Nigel advised him. “And when I say it, I mean fuck off to Bucharest. Your own club is waiting for you there, it’s probably fucking burning to the ground as we speak.”

“My club is just fine, thank you,” Darko answered. “Better tell me, did you really buy the whole store of this strange fucking juice to impress some kid? Why does everything have to be in the extremes with you?”

Ignoring the question, Nigel said, “Can you find me everything there is to Adam Raki?”

“You have more connections here now than I do, you lazy fucker,” Darko grunted, but Nigel just shrugged.

“You’re better at this than I am. I fucking hate dealing with papers.”

“Fine. What exactly do you want me to find?”

“Fucking everything. Work, friends, hobbies. Lovers.”

“If you want to obsess over someone, you could at least choose a woman,” Darko drawled. “Fucking men is one thing, but going crazy over them…”

“I didn’t ask for your fucking advice.”

“Maybe you should have. Maybe you’d still be married if you had listened to me.”

Shock and pain at the reminder were staggering. Nigel turned abruptly, his fist raised, but the agony that shot through his head temporarily blinded him.

“Fuck!” he hissed. “Fuck. My fucking head.”

Darko’s hands grabbed him, accepting his weight and carefully moving him toward the sofa.

“I’ll bring your meds, try not to move,” he barked. Nigel only cursed, still unable to see anything.

He’d prefer to have another scar on his forehead instead of experiencing this kind of pain, even occasionally. It rendered him useless, which was why he’d had to stop engaging in some of the activities of his and Darko’s business. People might fear him because of his rumored indestructibility, but fucking seizure at the wrong fucking place and wrong fucking time — and no luck would fucking save him.

Nigel didn’t notice how Darko came back, pushing a pill into his mouth and forcing him to drink water.

“It’ll pass,” he murmured. “As it always does. And yes, I’ll find you everything on your Adam Raki. You’ll have your information in a couple of days.”

“Sooner,” Nigel murmured.

“Greedy asshole,” Darko remarked, but his voice was full of uncharacteristic affection.

Nigel didn’t reply.


	2. The Stems of Obsession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for your support! I didn't expect to get much attention for this pairing, so I'm absolutely thrilled. 
> 
> Starting with the next chapter, things are going to get darker, and I hope to explore Adam's personality more, because right now Nigel still doesn't have a full picture of him.

The look on Adam's face when he saw the glass of guava juice presented to him by Nigel was worth any insult Darko had thrown at him. The astonishment and genuine, unguarded delight made him appear even younger, and when he spoke, his voice was amazed.

"Is it for me? Where did you get it?"

"From the store," Nigel answered amicably. "From now on, you can always ask for a drink that you will actually fucking drink here, and it will be brought to you. No charge."

Adam concentrated on the juice, looking at it as if it were some fucking gift from God. Then he took a careful sip, and Nigel felt his own unexplainable satisfaction well up at the sight.

"It's delicious," Adam said, approval in his voice making the dormant part of Nigel sing.

It was fucking pathetic. His need to please Gabi had never particularly bothered him, but she was his fucking wife, and Adam was nothing to him yet.

 _Yet_.

"I don't understand, though, how did it get here? I thought your club was only serving drinks with alcohol?"

"I made the exception for you," Nigel purred. "So you owe me a dance now."

Adam narrowed his eyes, watching him.

"I don't think I do," he said finally. "I never asked you to change the rules of your club for me, so why would I owe you anything?"

Nigel sighed, both frustrated and strangely exhilarated.

During their first conversation, he'd thought Adam was a little asshole, but now it was getting clearer that whenever he said something insulting, it simply meant that Nigel wasn't asking right fucking questions.

Adam had a strange sense of humor, and fuck if it wasn't the most refreshing thing.

"Do you want to dance with me?" Nigel asked slowly. Adam eyed him uncertainly.

"I do," he uttered, sounding almost surprised with himself. "But I don't like this music. I don't know how to dance to it."

"You come here to observe people, right?" Nigel pressed. "To help you interact with them better or what-fucking-ever. And what do they do here mostly?"

"Dance!" Adam's eyes lit up. "You are right. I should have thought about it earlier, but dancing never appealed to me. I'm not sure I can—"

"I'll show you," Nigel took Adam's hand and pulled him after him, closer to the center. Adam flinched when another couple bumped into them, and his face grew even more tense.

Sensing his urge to flee, Nigel tightened his grip on Adam's waist and wrapped another hand around his shoulders.

"It's okay," he murmured. "When was the last time you danced in a club?"

"I... I don't know," Adam licked his lips nervously, glancing around, and Nigel felt an unmistakable want wash over him. Close proximity to the boy was like some fucking aphrodisiac, it messed with his mind and made his thoughts disturbingly one-sided. "I never danced in a club. Not really. And I almost never visited them in my life."

"I can't even fucking imagine it, gorgeous," Nigel admitted. "I must have spent years in fucking clubs. Do you really just come here to watch people?"

"Yes, I told you that, didn't I?" Adam began to frown again. "I got better at understanding others after my father died, but when my co-workers ask me to go out with them, I still feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed. I hoped spending more time in a loud, stressful place would help me, but I'm not sure it did."

"You do hate people more than I do," Nigel said, amused.

He chose to ignore the part about Adam's father. Offering genuine condolences had never been his strong side, and he doubted it would change now.

Adam shrugged and then just focused on Nigel's chest, taking deep, slow breathes.

The sensation of his body in Nigel's arms was pleasing, but not matter how much Nigel tried to make him loosen up, it didn't work. Adam remained tense as a fucking string, and gradually, his breathing started to get quicker. 

 "Okay, you know what, let's go to my office. It's quieter there and you will be able to rest."

"I rest at home," Adam noted, but he didn't object when Nigel led him upstairs, still hugging his shoulders possessively.

His office had only the essentials, but Adam seemed to like it. He walked to the glass wall, looking at the moving crowd, and his voice was full of admiration when he said, "I never noticed this from my table. It's not visible at all from the outside."

"It was supposed to be like that," Nigel agreed, falling onto the small sofa. "Do you like it better here?"

"Yes." Adam turned back to watching people without elaborating, so Nigel clarified.

"Why?"

"It's quiet here, just like you said. I can still hear the music, but it doesn't bother me like it did back there."

"Adam. Come sit with me for a moment."

People tended to obey him when he spoke in this voice — Charlie fucking Countryman nearly pissed himself in a hurry to get to a place Nigel had pointed at, but Adam just tilted his head curiously.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'd like to tell you something."

"That doesn't really make sense, you can tell me what you want from here, I will hear it."

When would he fucking remember that indirect approach never fucking worked with Adam?

"I want you to sit with me," Nigel rephrased.

"Oh. Okay," Adam walked to him and sat at the sofa, looking at him expectedly.

"You told me you don't have much work in your observatory at the moment, correct?"

"Yes. I give tours and..."

"...you don't like it," Nigel finished for him. "Because you don't like people."

"Yes," Adam looked very pleased from the fact that Nigel had remembered everything.

"What would you say if I offered you a job at my club?" Nigel had no fucking idea what exactly he was offering, but now that the words were out, he wasn't planning to take them back.

"A job?" Adam echoed, confused. "But I already have a job. I don't want to leave it. And what could I do for a night club like yours?"

"It's temporary," Nigel assured him. "I need a mechanical designer for the interior, to make it more modern, more fucking impressive. Do you know what I mean?"

"No," Adam answered carefully. "What would you like to change specifically?"

The idea that came to his mind was spontaneous, so Nigel blurted, "I want a space theme."

Just like he'd expected, Adam's eyes lit up.

"A space theme?" he repeated. "You mean you want to make space the central focus of your club?"

"Exactly," satisfied with the reaction he'd got, Nigel gestured at the ceiling. "The lights, the decorations, all this shit. Can you do it?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Adam jumped to his feet and started circling the room in obvious excitement. "A lot of changes will be needed, because there is nothing space-centric in the club at all. It might be expensive—"

"Don't worry about the fucking money," Nigel interrupted, "I have more than I know what to fucking do with."

"Fantastic!" Adam exclaimed, and then stopped pacing suddenly, turning to him with a worried face.

"What?" Nigel asked, frowning. The sight of Adam immediately accepting his task and treating it with such enthusiasm made the warmth in his chest burn even stronger, and he disliked the interruption.

What the fuck was happening in that creative head?

"If you really want the space theme, you should change the music, the menu, and even the name," Adam murmured hesitantly.

"The name? What's wrong with the one I have fucking chosen?"

Adam stared at him as if he was being an idiot again.

"Your club is called "Opera House"," he pointed out. "No one who sees this name will expect to see space-related things here, so your clients will be unhappy. And why is it called "Opera House"? There is no opera here, and it's not really a house."

Oh.

Well, it did make fucking sense. But explaining things to Adam — things that were deeply personal...

On the other hand, why the fuck not?

"It's a reminder of my wife," Nigel said, his voice weirdly subdued. "She was a cello player. She played at Bucharest Opera House and I wanted my club to reflect it."

The tension coiling in his chest at the inevitable questions dissipated when Adam just said, "Oh. It's for a sentimental reason, I get it. I know what it means. So, you don't want to change the name of the club?"

The relief was so powerful that Nigel exhaled sharply, and then immediately got angry with himself.

Fuck sentimentality. Fuck torturing himself in the place that was supposed to be his own. Fuck ghosts.

"Tell you what. You come up with better name, and we will change it. Deal?"

"Deal!" Adam beamed, so pretty and happy that Nigel felt his answering smile bloom on his face. His fingers were twitching with the urgent desire to touch, so he clenched his fists, trying to regain control over himself.

Tread carefully. He had to tread fucking carefully, or Adam would run from him, and at this stage, Nigel knew that he would follow. He would follow, and everything would end with blood.

"When should I start?" Adam asked, blissfully unaware of the dark thoughts swarming in Nigel's head.

"Tomorrow," Nigel said confidently. "You can come as soon as you can. I'll be waiting for you."

"I can come at six, will you be here?"

"Six? Six what?"

"Morning."

"Six fucking morning?" Nigel stared at him incredulously. When Adam nodded seriously, he laughed. "Sweetheart, I don't think I'll wake up at that time, and frankly, neither should you. Weren't you the one who told me that you must sleep at least seven hours to feel good?"

"Yes!" grinning, Adam tilted his head, and his eyes were sparkling. "You remember everything I said to you. I like it. I like you."

The wind was knocked out of him. Feeling strange, fluttery sensation that was slowly starting to devour him, Nigel watched Adam say good-bye and leave, flinching at the stairs, where the loud music probably assaulted him.

He watched Adam stop at the exit and raise his head, probably trying to see him behind the covered glass.

He watched him disappear behind the door.

The feeling didn't disappear with Adam. On the contrary, it kept growing, gaining sharper contours and weight, fueled by Adam's words that kept echoing in Nigel’s mind.

I like you. I like you. I like you.

He'd never heard anything this beautiful.

 

 

***

 

 

Adam arrived after midday with a huge suitcase. He extracted papers with drawings and photos from there, talking about them excitedly, pointing at the ceiling of the club and offering thousands ideas at once.

Nigel said that he loved each one.

Adam sent him an already familiar "you-are-an-idiot" look and started to explain again, this time more slowly.

Nigel picked the idea that seemed to be making Adam the happiest, and was rewarded by another brilliant smile.

He never wanted to let this boy out of his club again.

 

 

***

 

 

On the third day, Darko came back, and he looked as if he couldn't decide whether he was amused or pissed off.

"Good afternoon," he greeted them, though his eyes were on Adam who was busy drilling something on the ceiling. "What is he doing?"

"Helping me change the atmosphere at the club," Nigel replied, also watching. In the last few days, he'd bought all weird equipment Adam had asked for, so now he could have the pleasure of watching Adam obsess over every corner of his club. He was spending more and more hours here, and Nigel couldn't be more satisfied. 

"Seriously?" Darko curled his lips derisively. "And what is he going to add? Stars? Planets?"

Nigel's gaze sharpened immediately.

"You found something?" he asked.

"Everything there is to know about him. Just like you wanted."

"Give it to me," Nigel held out his hand demandingly, but Darko just smirked.

"Nothing much, so it didn't have to be written down."

"Well?"

"His full name is Adam Raki, he's 31, originally from New York. He lived with his father until he died, then relocated to Flintridge because of work. Considering the shit you asked him to do, you clearly know about his space obsession."

"Yes, I know about his work," Nigel growled impatiently. "What about lovers? Is he in relationship?"

Darko sent him a pitying glance.

"No," he said. "No relationship. The last one he had was with Elisabeth Buchwald, a writer. As far as I know, they had no contact since the break-up."

"Good," Nigel nodded, satisfied. "Is that all?"

Darko hesitated, looking at him strangely, and then he suddenly clapped him on his back.

"That's it," he confirmed. "A law-abiding citizen, your Adam. Did you notice anything off about him?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Nigel straightened, feeling instantly defensive.

"Nothing," Darko raised his hands. "Nothing at all. Calm down."

Assessing him coldly, Nigel took out a cigarette, wondering if he should press. Darko rarely played games with him, and if there was something important about Adam, he would have probably told him.

"Nigel!" an annoyed voice called out from above. "Smoking!"

"Fuck." Cursing, Nigel threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. "Sorry, gorgeous. You can continue."

"Thank you," Adam went back to working on some strange colorless sphere, and Nigel smiled goofily at his back.

"Doesn't it bother you that he talks in the same, monotone voice?" Darko asked curiously, and Nigel laughed.

"Are you fucking kidding me? He's so emotional that I find it hard to imagine where he gets this much energy."

Darko’s smile was mysterious.

"Interesting," was all he said.

 

 

***

 

 

When Darko realized changing the club meant closing it for a while, the remains of his amusement vanished.

"You're going crazy — again," he hissed, and Nigel just shrugged. Adam was working on another part of the ceiling, trying to fasten another strange sphere to it with the help of the cotter. "You don't need any designer or to change the interior. You don't care about freaking space! And if you are willing to do all that, why not hire a team? They'll finish it sooner than one kid, for Christ’s sake!"

"I don't want any fucking people in my fucking club," Nigel warned. "Adam wants to do everything by himself."

Darko scoffed.

"Just admit that all you want is to get into his pants."

"So what if I fucking do?"

"There certainly must be cheaper ways of doing it rather than closing your club for weeks!"

"Leave me be," Nigel waved him off. "I'll do whatever I fucking want with it."

"You are a child."

The stupid remark annoyed him, but it was better than Darko mentioning Gabi again, so Nigel chose to ignore it.

He had far more interesting things on his mind.

 

 

***

 

 

Adam finished his work on the ceiling after a week and started working on the walls. When Darko was in the room with them, he stayed mostly silent, but if he and Nigel were alone, he simply flourished. He explained what he was doing and what he planned to do next, often turning to make sure that Nigel was listening.

Nigel _was_ listening. A lot of stuff remained unclear to him, but if he asked, Adam attempted to explain by using simpler terms.

"It cannot be proven yet, but there is a theory that white holes are the reverse of black holes," he was saying. "They cannot be entered from the outside, but light might still escape from it. And matter, too."

"I have no fucking idea how there can be any theories about the existence of something that we can't fucking see," Nigel uttered, half-amused. "You have such sharp mind — how can you trust something that isn't solid?"

"It's all about the energy," Adam insisted. "There is more than enough evidence to suggest that—"

He probably went on explaining, but the pain that pierced Nigel's head was too blinding to keep listening. He grabbed it with both hands in attempt to control the pain, but it kept increasing, turning his every thought into scorching piece of flame. He was burning, his head and his mind were burning, and the fucking pills were too fucking—

A careful touch was startling. The hand was cold, and it brought brief but soothing relief. Blinking with difficulty, Nigel managed to open his eyes and looked at Adam, who crouched near him with a vacant expression on his face. However, he was radiating tension, so Nigel tried to mutter, "It's fine. Just my head."

"Yes. You have a scar. I noticed," Adam reached out and gently touched his forehead. Nigel flinched, and the hand immediately disappeared.

"Did you do that because you are in pain or because you don't like me touching you?" Adam asked distantly.

If Nigel had any fucking strength left in him, he would have laughed.

"I love you touching me, sweetheart," he murmured. "But it's a fucking ugly scar."

He closed his eyes again, but opened them when he felt Adam's breath on his face. Astonished, Nigel froze. Adam was as near him as never before, studying his scar intently. He raised his hand again hesitantly, and this time, Nigel let him touch.

"It is not ugly at all," Adam said softly. "It looks beautiful. Like Pavo. Constellation. It was named after a bird, peacock. Do you know it?"

"The bird — yes. The consta... constellation — no," Nigel whispered. The pain was sharp and biting, but the gentleness of Adam's touch and the fascinated light in his eyes made it more bearable.

His scar was ugly. Bullets didn't leave anything nice after them, but leave it to Adam to find a star on his forehead.

This sweet, charming boy.

"I don't know what to do," Adam said after a pause. "Should I leave? Or call the ambulance? Or ask Darko to come? Or—"

"Just stay," Nigel asked. "With me. Okay?"

"Okay," Adam agreed readily. He sat like a statue, so Nigel changed his position, wincing, and motioned for Adam to sit on the sofa. When he did, Nigel boldly lowered his head onto his knees and closed his eyes.

For several minutes, nothing happened, and then Adam began to stroke his hair slowly.

He was trying to be careful, but when Nigel looked up at him, he saw how fully engulfed by the task Adam was — as if his life fucking depended on caressing Nigel’s hair.

“Is it okay?” Adam asked.

“It’s more than okay,” Nigel croaked. “Keep doing that. I feel better this way. And tell me something about the stars.”

“You’re the only person who wants to listen to me talking about them all the time,” Adam remarked quietly, and he sounded both confused and delighted. Nigel said nothing, and eventually, Adam began discussing the black and white holes again, his voice enthusiastic, his hands caressing Nigel steadily.

For the first time, desperately hoping to escape from pain, Nigel absorbed every word, trying to understand even those phrases that made no sense to him. Adam never seemed to mind having one-sided conversations, and he didn’t find it off-putting when Nigel just kept staring at him.

It was nice. And new. The least Nigel could do was finally learn more about the fucking space instead of letting Adam talk in vain.

He’d go and buy some fucking space books after the pain receded.

 

Maybe minutes had passed, maybe hours. Adam never stopped, not even for a moment. Unexplainably, his cool hands kept bringing relief, and the pain was retreating farther and farther away. When only a small echo of it remained, Nigel still stayed as he was, too lost in the blissful and long-forgotten sensation of caresses. Barely controlling his own actions, he caught one of Adam’s hands and brought it to his lips.

Adam stopped talking and kept silent for as long as Nigel’s lips remained pressed to his skin. Only when Nigel finally released it, he asked, “Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to,” Nigel murmured, sitting up and staring at him intently. “I want to kiss you again. On the lips. May I?”

A delightful blush colored Adam’s pale cheeks pink. It wasn’t revulsion, and it definitely wasn’t rejection. Still, Nigel waited until Adam nodded jerkily, and only then he leaned forward and covered Adam’s lips with his own, twisting his fingers in the curly hair to hold him closer.

Adam trembled under his touch and kissed him back, openly and with abandon, as if he had been ready for this for ages.

Unused to such enthusiasm, Nigel slowed down, but Adam only wrapped his hands around his neck and pressed closer to him, continuing to devour his lips. He tasted like mint and like something unreachable — so unreachable that Nigel felt anger wake up within him, anger and fear that this might not last, that this might be taken from him.

When Adam finally did pull back, out of breath, Nigel smiled at him, still only an inch away.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me like that, gorgeous,” he whispered, and Adam peered at him curiously.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you will never be fucking rid of me now. Do you understand? I will never let you go.”

Adam’s eyes flew wide open.

“Never?” he repeated, dismayed. “But you can’t do that. I have work tomorrow.”

Nigel laughed heartily before pulling Adam closer again, nuzzling his dark hair.

‘ _Never_ ,’ he repeated silently. Fucking never.

He liked the sound of it.

And fuck the consequences. 

 


	3. The Bloom of Obsession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for your support! It's deeply cherished and appreciated.  
> This chapter is pretty long, and it's all about Nigel being creepily possessive.)

When Adam came in the next afternoon, Nigel greeted him with a long, sloppy kiss. As he finally pulled back, he was satisfied to see the familiar and desired blush on Adam's cheeks.

"Hello, gorgeous," he muttered. "What are we going to be working on today?"

"We?" Adam asked, his eyes wide. "You want to work, too?"

"Why the hell not? It's my club, isn't it?" Nigel smirked, eyeing his lips again, but Adam remained oblivious.

"It's just strange," he said. "You usually prefer to sit here and do nothing."

"So, according to you, I'm a lazy fuck?" Nigel asked incredulously, and Adam blinked at him.

"You are not a fuck," he argued. "But you _are_ lazy." 

Nigel could only laugh in response. Before, he'd have taken it as insult and punched the offender without thinking twice, but somehow, even the worst sounded innocent coming from Adam.

It was bewildering. Nice, but absolutely fucking incomprehensible.

"If you really want to help, start with that Sirius projection," Adam said decisively. "I finished constructing it, so you can install it where you think it will fit best. The right corner above the bar will be the best choice."

Nigel grinned and caught Adam by his sleeve, pulling him into an embrace.

"You just said I can pick any place I want, and now you're telling me where to put that thing?" he wondered aloud.

"Yes," Adam stared somewhere above his shoulder. "It is polite to offer a choice to a person, but since you probably won't pick a good spot, I did it for you."

"My little helper," Nigel said fondly. Adam's eyes suddenly focused on his forehead, and a strange light entered them. He raised his fingers and touched Nigel's scar almost reverently, before pressing his lips to it.

A tremor shook Nigel's body in response, and he involuntarily stepped closer, trying to absorb Adam's warmth.

"I know how we can call your club," Adam murmured, his lips still hovering over Nigel's forehead.

"You do?" Nigel asked hoarsely. "How?"

"Pavo. Like the constellation. Like the bird. Like your..."

"My scar, yes," Nigel pushed back a little, staring at him. "I like it."

"Really?" It seemed that Adam's entire body lit up, as it practically began to glow from happiness. "Does it mean you will rename your club?"

"That's right, I fucking will." Laughter escaped Nigel's chest, though he had no idea why.

‘ _Opera House_ ’ signified Gabi's ghost.

‘ _Pavo_ ’ would signify his survival.

"Good." Adam stepped out from his embrace suddenly and moved to the bar. "I don't like the current name. I don't like that you named your club when thinking about your wife."

Stunned, Nigel watched him get busy with illumination system, trying to understand if he'd heard it right.

Was Adam jealous?

It was weird. Nigel wasn't used to his partners being jealous because of him. Gabi had just looked sour whenever some girl hit on him, confident in Nigel's affection — or just not caring enough.

It was unexpectedly flattering, and Nigel could feel his lips stretch in a smile.

He'd never thought he would find openness such an attractive trait.

 

They worked for some time, with Nigel genuinely trying to be useful and doing everything Adam said. He understood how to install and check shit, but he had no idea how Adam had managed to make it work.

"Where did you learn all that?" he asked finally.

"All what?"

"Engineering stuff. These endless supplies of information about space you possess."

"Oh, that's easy," Adam turned to him. "My father bought me a lot of books and charts when I was a child. I couldn't sleep at night." A small frown creased Adam’s forehead, and his voice was disturbed when he added, "I still can't. I always wake up and I feel bad. Anxious."

"Because you are alone?" Nigel suggested. Adam turned away from him again, his shoulders tense.

"No," he said quietly. "Because I'm wrong."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Nigel demanded, getting instantly angry. Adam flinched as if he'd been hit and started to shake his head rapidly.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing, nothing. I'm okay now. I read books, I watch people, I know how they are supposed to act and what they should say. I'm okay. But when my Dad was still alive, when I was a child, I wasn't. I had only him and my stars. Dad said they were my best friends, and even though it makes no sense, I’m used to perceiving them as such. Naturally, I tried to learn as much as I could about them, because you should know everything about your friends. Right?" he stared at Nigel as if desperately seeking his approval.

Of course, all he could do was nod.

"Right," he agreed. "You must be a great friend."

Smiling ruefully, Adam abandoned his system and walked to Nigel.

"It is easy to be friends with stars or animals," he said. "But it's difficult to be friends with people. I only have Harlan as a friend, and maybe Carol, but I really don't know much about them. We don't talk about meaningful things that result in mutual revelations, especially not with Carol, and talking about usual things with them is not interesting to me. I believe it's not interesting to them either, because Harlan never wants to hear about space and asks me not to talk to him about it, and Carol either changes the subject or asks to excuse her."

Adam fell silent, and Nigel used the pause to snap, "Who the fuck are Harlan and Carol?"

Why hadn't fucking Darko mentioned them? He'd told him about Elisabeth Buchwald and assured that everything was over between her and Adam, so where had these fucking Harlan and Carol even come from?

Nigel's anger burned brighter when Adam just sent him a disapproving look.

"I've just told you," he said slowly. "They are my friends, but I still don't know much about—"

"I mean, where did you fucking meet them? Where do they work, how old are they, how long have you known each other?" After blurting out his questions, Nigel took a deep breath in attempt to calm himself.

This anger wouldn't do. He couldn't afford to alienate Adam with his demands. He'd scared off all acquaintances Gabi had ever had, and while she hadn't protested much, it obviously created a wedge between them. The first one of fucking many.

No. His relationship with Adam would be different.

Thank fucking God, Adam didn't seem offended. On the contrary, he smiled at him, and his voice was relieved when he said, "Oh, I thought you misunderstood me at first. I'm sorry, I know you always listen to what I say and never forget anything. I just understood the question wrong. I met Harlan because he was friends with my father, and he became my friend as well. We even worked together for some time, though we did different things and met only during our lunch break. I don't know where he works now," Adam frowned, looking frustrated with himself. "He changes jobs so frequently that I get confused sometimes. I'm sorry, I can't answer this question, and I also don't know how old he is. We have known each other for—"

"It doesn't matter," Nigel interrupted him, relief making his words softer. Regardless of the actual age of this Harlan, he couldn't be a threat if he was a friend of Adam's father. "And it is me who should apologize, sweetheart. I shouldn't have pushed you to answer all that, it was rude of me."

"No, it's okay," Adam stepped closer to him, surprised. "I like it when you ask questions about me. I feel important to you."

"You are," Nigel murmured. His hands closed around Adam's waist possessively, pushing their faces together. "You have no idea how fucking important you are to me."

Adam beamed, feeding the already fully-developed, obsessive monster within him, the one that purred at the sight of Adam's every brilliant smile.

Beautiful.

His.

"What about Carol?" Nigel asked almost playfully, nuzzling Adam's neck. Adam sighed, and giggled when another warm breath brushed against his skin.

"Carol is my colleague," he said finally. "We met in the Observatory sixteen months ago, when I started working there. I don't know how old she is, but she is young. She is always nice to me and she always talks to me when I go out with my co-workers. I like her, but talking to her is still stressful."

Anger and suspicions returned, more poisonous and violent than before.

Carol. Fucking Carol. Fucking Darko, for not saying anything about her.

Maybe Nigel would have to pay her a visit. To set the record straight.

Oblivious to the danger growing around him, Adam continued, "Carol wants me to go out more, but I really hate it. That is why I started coming to your club — I hoped things would get easier, but—"

"Go out with me," Nigel said quickly, and Adam blinked at him.

"What?"

"Go out with me," Nigel repeated. "For dinner. I know a good place nearby, you'll like it."

"No!" Adam shook his head vehemently, and Nigel's heart fell. "No, I don't want to go out. And actually, it's time for me to leave, I have to give a tour soon..." He began to move away from him, and Nigel's vision darkened. His hand curled around the back of Adam's neck and forcefully brought him back in Nigel's vicinity.

"So you don't want to have dinner with me," he said lowly. "You are ready to make an effort for some fucking cunt, but when I ask you, you refuse?"

Adam stared at him in bewilderment, and Nigel's violent fury temporarily subsided.

Fuck. He'd just promised that he wouldn't let his temper jeopardize their relationship, and now what? Now fucking what? How was he going to explain this to Adam, the sweetest and kindest human being he'd ever met?

To his complete astonishment, Adam raised his hands and awkwardly put them around Nigel's shoulders, pressing his cheek to his chest.

Shocked, Nigel didn't realize that his fingers loosened their grip on the nape of the slender neck and started caressing dark, curly hair on their own volition. His fury dissipated entirely, destroyed by Adam's surprising reaction and gentleness that Nigel certainly didn't deserve.

"Do you want a hug because you're upset?" Adam murmured.

"What?"

"A hug," Adam repeated. "You squeezed my neck as people do when they're hugging or want to be hugged. Are you upset because I refused to go out with you? You don't have to be. I'd like to have dinner with you, but I hate cafes and restaurants, and I usually eat at specific time, and I like only certain food, and..." Adam stopped talking and bit his lip. Then said decisively, "You're right. I do have to make an effort. My books say so, and I tried to follow their advice, but these weeks in a club with no one but you made me so happy and relaxed, and I—"

"Forget it," Nigel said fervently, pressing their foreheads together. Fuck his childish stupidity. "We don't have to go if you don't want to. I misinterpreted—"

"No, you're right," Adam stubbornly repeated. "I will go out with you today. Not now, because I still have work, but maybe later, in the evening?"

"Be here at seven," Nigel kissed Adam's lower lip, breathing in the soft laugh that escaped his mouth. "Wear something nice. We'll go to a fancy place where no one will bother us."

"Will people be dressed normally there?" Adam asked. "No scary or funny suits, just clothes?"

"Just clothes," Nigel confirmed. "It's not some fucking Halloween party."

"Good," Adam gave him a small smile. "I'll arrive at seven. Please don't be late, because it bothers me a lot."

"I won't be," his promise sounded way too solemn for the occasion, but Nigel didn't give a shit. He would say and do anything to be on the receiving end of the beautiful smile Adam sent him whenever he was happy.

The monster in his chest agreed.

 

 

***

 

 

 At half past five, Adam texted him — which was surprising in itself, because Adam disliked doing it. Opening the message, Nigel had a bad feeling that he was going to be fucking stood up, but the first words made him grin.

Adam's text message read like fucking poetry.

' _My dear Nigel, I apologize, but I am going to be late. I will explain everything when we meet. Please send me the address of the restaurant and I will come. I will try to be there at eight. Yours, Adam_.' 

Yours.

The small word was enough to push the suspicions about what could possibly detain Adam to the back of Nigel's mind. He must have spent at least ten minutes staring at the text, savoring the last sentence, before finally forcing himself to hide the phone.

His self-control was in danger of collapsing at the thought of what Adam could be doing right now, but Nigel forbade himself to think about it.

He wasn't going to fucking ruin their evening.

He wasn't.

 

 

***

 

 

It was indeed eight o'clock when Adam entered the restaurant. Nigel's breath caught in his chest, and the nervousness with which he had been tapping his knuckles against the table stalled.

Adam was here.

He came.

And how exquisite he looked in his gray suit, a striking contrast with his eyes.

Nigel stood up, not taking his eyes off Adam, and waited for him to notice him. As soon as their gazes met, Adam started walking in his direction, but it was obvious that he felt extremely uncomfortable. His face was paler than usual, his hands clenched into tight fists, and his shoulders hunched, as if he was trying to become invisible.

Uncaring of what others might think about him, Nigel moved to intercept him, hugging Adam around his waist in an already familiar, possessive gesture.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. No. I'm not sure," Adam looked around nervously. "Thank you for coming to meet me, I feel more comfortable this way."

Pleased, Nigel gestured to the chair at their table and took his own.

"I'm glad you are here," he said. "You look absolutely gorgeous."

Adam glanced at Nigel's outfit and blushed.

"You too," he uttered. "I have never seen this suit before. You look very sophisticated."

"Does it mean that I look shitty in other times?" Nigel guessed, and Adam wrinkled his pretty nose.

"No, not that word," he protested. "Usually you look like a gardener."

A gardener.

"A fucking gardener?" Nigel asked, unable to fight a ridiculous smile, and Adam nodded seriously.

"Yes. You have some funny shirts, but they look like they belong in the garden. I know because my father had similar, and he always wore them when we went to our summer house."

"Summer house," Nigel echoed. "Were you rich? Did you father have a good job?"

"Not really," to Nigel's delight, Adam reached across the table and touched his hand absentmindedly, drawing little circles on it. "We always had money, but not too much of it. Everything got better when I got the job."

"You're a clever boy," Nigel remarked. "This engineering shit must bring you a fortune."

Adam wrinkled his nose again, and Nigel chuckled, feeling absolutely, foolishly besotted.

"It does pay well," Adam agreed. "But that's not why I do it. I love it."

"I know," Nigel raised Adam's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. "I know, sweetheart. And you're fucking brilliant at it."

Adam sighed happily and opened his mouth to say something when the waiter approached their table, armed with a fake smile.

"Good evening. I'm Gerald, I'll be your waiter today. Have you chosen what you'll be having? Can I recommend anything?"

"No, thank you," Adam said, and to Nigel's surprise, he sounded almost angry.

"Come back in a minute," Nigel offered, and the waiter nodded before disappearing.

Adam continued to glare at his back, so Nigel couldn't help but ask, "What is it about? I've never seen you so hostile before."

"Sorry," a deep frown marred Adam's forehead. "I just don't like waiters. And menus. I don't understand the names of the dishes there, they never tell me anything, so how can I choose?"

"There are ingredients listed beneath the names, see?" Nigel pointed at the tiny letters, but Adam just shook his head in frustration.

"I don't like it," he repeated. "Can you... could you..."

"Choose for you?" Nigel suggested, and when Adam nodded, unsure, his heart swelled in endless joy.

Gabi had always loved her independence and it often conflicted with Nigel's need to control. Adam, it seemed, was more than content to let him take charge, and even if he tried, Nigel couldn't imagine anything or anyone more perfect.

"What do you like?" he purred. "From food? What do you usually eat at home?"

"Macaroni and cheese," Adam replied, visibly upset. "Do you think they have it here?"

"They have similar dishes," Nigel said, scanning the menu. "Do you want it, or do you want me to order a surprise for you?"

"I hate surprises," Adam grumbled, then looked at him and pressed his lips tightly together, clearly thinking about something. "But—"

"But?"

"Okay. I'd like a surprise."

Despite his words, Adam still looked upset, so when the waiter came back, Nigel asked for two plates of pasta with extra cheese. Adam seemed distracted, staring at the table mostly and not reacting even when asked for the drink of his choice. Nigel ordered for him, watching him with narrowed eyes and trying to understand what was wrong. Adam disliked people, but surely such reaction was extreme?

"What made you late?" he asked, hoping to regain attention.

Adam barely looked at him.

"I couldn't choose what to wear," he murmured tensely. "Everything looked too plain. The Internet said to wear something nice and attractive, and I wasn't sure what it meant."

"Well, you fucking succeeded," Nigel noted.

It was flattering that Adam had deemed their meeting important enough to dress up, and even to look for tips in the Internet.

Nigel was fucking charmed.

Adam glanced at him nervously, opened his mouth, and winced when some asshole laughed loudly. Nigel sent a glare in that direction, wondering if coming here had been a mistake. This place was supposed to be fucking outstanding, catering only to the elite.

Maybe he should have bought the entire fucking restaurant to make Adam feel relaxed.

"I don't want to date you," Adam suddenly blurted out, and all thoughts in Nigel's head evaporated. Incredulous, he stared at him, unable to understand if he'd heard it right.

"Care to repeat what you said, gorgeous?" he asked, knowing that his voice sounded dangerous, but not giving a shit.

Adam started to rub his hands together almost obsessively, refusing to look at him again.

"I don't want to date you," he repeated obediently.

Fury and hurt that boiled up in Nigel's chest were as powerful and eviscerating as when he'd looked in the eyes of Charlie fucking Countryman knowing that he had fucked his wife, as intolerable as during the months spent in the hospital.

Who would have thought that a fucking childish phrase like _'I don't want to date you_ ' could be so deadly?

Who would have thought that it could kindle this annihilating fire inside him?

Standing up abruptly, Nigel grabbed Adam by the hand and stalked to the bathroom, dragging him after him, ignoring the curious gazes of other visitors.

When the door closed behind them, Nigel pushed Adam against the wall, wrapping his hand around his neck, practically vibrating from rage. Meeting the infuriatingly calm gray gaze, Nigel tightened his grip, even though some small part of his mind begged him to stop and to step back.

He'd never been violent with Gabi, never raised a hand against her in anger, so this overwhelming need to hurt and shake and rage until no one was left standing was almost surprising.

He'd given Gabi a chance to have a happy life without him.

He wasn't going to give one to Adam. Adam was going to stay with him, whether he fucking wanted it or not.

"You don't want to date me?" Nigel hissed. "Think I won't be a fucking good partner to you, sweetheart? Think someone else will do a better job, like that fucking bitch Carol you told me about?"

Adam stared at him blankly.

"You don't like Carol?" he asked timidly, and Nigel nearly howled with rage. Clenching Adam's throat even tighter, he leaned closer, so their lips almost touched.

"Say her name one more time and I will fucking shoot her," he whispered. "Do you hear me, Adam? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"No, I really don't," Adam frowned, as if he wasn't standing with his fucking neck squeezed by a killer, as if the life of his fucking friend wasn't hanging on a fucking thread. "You don't even know Carol, so how can you shoot her? And why would you do that if it's a crime?"

"Are you mocking me?" Nigel asked in disbelief, and to his shock, Adam growled at him.

"No, I am not!" he spat, his gray eyes blazing. "But you are not making any sense! I hate when people do that, I hate when they say confusing things!"

"It is you who don't make any sense!" Nigel shook him violently, growing even more infuriated when Adam continued to just look at him. "First you kiss me, then you say you don't want to date me? Is it a fucking game to you?"

When Adam's eyes suddenly filled with tears, Nigel froze. All anger collapsed, losing its foothold, instantly replaced with remorse.

"Fuck," Nigel breathed, pulling Adam into a tight embrace and hiding his face in soft hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Forgive me."

"I don't understand!" Adam cried. His voice was muffled since he was pressed against Nigel's shoulder. Miraculously, he didn't try to pull back. "I don't understand, I don't understand, I don't understand. What are you talking about? What do you mean? Why do you apologize? What's happening?"

Still disgusted with himself, Nigel hugged his trembling boy tighter before letting him go, covering his wet face with fervent kisses instead.

"It's okay," he said, practically begged. "It's okay. Everything's fine, Adam. From now on, I will only say things that make sense. Okay?"

"Okay," Adam whispered.

"Thank you," Nigel closed his eyes, reveling in the realization that he had been somehow given yet another chance.

They stood in silence for a while. Nigel kept caressing every curly lock of dark hair soothingly, waiting until Adam's breathing grew steady again. Then, making sure to keep his voice gentle, he murmured, "You said you didn't want to date me."

"I don't," Adam confirmed, and Nigel clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay calm. 

"Why?" he asked.

It seemed that he had finally asked the right fucking question. Adam's face brightened, and he said earnestly, "Because dating is difficult and confusing and I don't like it. I dated Beth once, and while I liked her, I didn't like dating. When you asked me to dinner, I asked people in the Internet about it, so I could know for sure what to expect. They said it means dating, and dating means always going to restaurants or cinemas or parks, and meeting the parents, and visiting friends' parties, and I don't like all that. I don't want to spend so much time with other people, I'd rather just be with you."

Nigel stared at him, trying to persuade himself that his ears were still fucking working.

Was Adam serious?

His mind couldn't accept it, but the monster in his chest bared his teeth threateningly, determined to enjoy every syllable it'd heard.

 _I'd rather just be with you_.  

It sounded like music.

"Let me get this straight," Nigel murmured, touching Adam's chin slightly and forcing him to raise his head so their eyes would meet. "When you say you don't want to 'date' me, you mean that you don't want to spend time outside, with my parents, or with my friends. Did I get it right?"

"Almost," Adam smiled, looking pleased with him. "Sometimes I like to be outside, especially at night, in the valley. I come there to see the stars. But people—"

"I got that," Nigel said, smiling so wide that his lips hurt. "I got you," he added, even gentler. "You shouldn't have worried, sweetheart. I hate people, too. I spent too much fucking with them already. I don't have parents, they both died years ago, and you met the only man I can call a friend."

"Darko?" Adam asked, wide-eyed.

"Darko," Nigel confirmed. "And if you want, we'll kick him out of our club and you'll never have to see his fucking face again."

Adam seemed to consider it.

"I don't mind Darko," he said finally. "He is quiet."

"See?" Nigel placed a kiss to the hollow of Adam's throat, and was delighted when Adam craned his neck to give him better access. "We are very compatible."

"Yes, I think we are," Adam said seriously. Nigel's monster crowed in triumph, but before he could react, Adam jumped at him and covered his lips in an enthusiastic kiss, all tongue and wetness and eagerness.

Laughing into the warm and welcoming mouth, Nigel wrapped his hands around Adam's waist and lifted him into the air, enjoying his giggles. The combination of relief and joy was dizzying, and Nigel still couldn't believe that Adam had let his mistake pass just like that.

He didn't deserve forgiveness.

But he wasn't going to refuse one.

 

 

***

 

 

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Adam was happy with the order Nigel had made for him, the waiters and other guests stopped staring at them, and no one mentioned the disaster that had occurred.

After the meal, after they left the restaurant, Adam suddenly looked at him with the saddest fucking expression on his face, and Nigel was immediately alarmed.

"What?" he asked. "What's wrong?" 

"Do we have to go home now?" Adam murmured.

"Do _you_ want to go home, darling?"

"No."

"Then we won't," relieved once again, Nigel squeezed Adam's hand in his. "What would you like to do next?"

"We should go to the valley," Adam replied. "Near the Observatory where I work. It is very beautiful there, there are benches and a bridge and you can see the stars and... oh," Adam pursed his lips and glared at his own feet. "I'm sorry."

Before Nigel could ask what he could possibly apologize for, Adam cleared his throat and asked, "Nigel, would you like to go to the valley with me?"

Chuckling and feeling hopelessly besotted, Nigel nodded.

"Of course I fucking would," he said fondly. "You shouldn't even ask."

"But it's a proper thing to do. I know because I read about it — people have to be asked about what they want. I shouldn't assume that you want to do the thing that I want to do, it would be selfish and inconsiderate of me."

"Who fucking cares about being considerate?" Nigel curled his lips derisively. "You can say what you want to me, sweetheart, whenever you feel like it. I swear that I won't be fucking offended no matter what."

"Really?" Adam peered at him, the hope in his eyes making Nigel's heart ache with an impulse to drown him in devotion and adoration. "Do you promise?"

"I promise," Nigel swore.

Adam smiled.

 

 

***

 

 

The valley was empty at this time. Adam led him to his favorite bench, and to Nigel's surprise, almost forcefully made him lie down and place his head on Adam's lap. Long fingers weaved themselves into his hair, and Nigel sighed, feeling content and unexpectedly bashful.

It was strange — lying here, on the lap of another man, having him massage his head, staring at the star-lit sky.

Romantic. Sappy.

Desirable.

Nigel loved it. He'd loved sitting on the roof with Gabi, teaching her how to fire a gun, or dancing together, gazing into each other's eyes like some snotty teenagers.

Every one of those memories was tainted by what had occurred next. He'd hoped to become everything for Gabi, yet it never happened.

Adam, though. Adam was different. He was soft and open and accepting, as creative as Gabi yet not scared as easily. Not disgusted by Nigel's violent outbursts, not rushing to judge him.

He was perfect, and Nigel had never wanted to keep anyone as much as he did with him, not even Gabi.

"I could tell you about the stars again," Adam's gentle voice made Nigel close his eyes in bliss. "Or we could talk about your club. Or you could tell me something about you."

"Do you really want to know?" Nigel asked.

"Yes," Adam replied. This time his lovely voice was thoughtful. "I usually don't because I'm not interested in other people and their lives. I know I should be — all relationships are based on mutual interest, but I don't care about the majority of people. But you..." Adam paused for a moment, and Nigel barely managed to keep himself from greedily demanding to hear more. "I care very much about you," his boy finished, his quiet wonder fully reflecting that of Nigel. "You are... uhm. You're special to me. And I'm interested in everything that happened and will happen to you. So... I'd like to know it. If you want to tell me," he hastened to add.

Nigel remained silent for a while, savoring what he'd just heard. Adam's confession was sweeter than the most exquisite melodies he'd heard at Bucharest Opera House, more liberating than the fact of burning that fucking incriminating tape.

Special. He was special to Adam, to a person who clearly didn't give his affection freely.

The feeling of belonging, of being cared for worked like a balm upon his fucking heart, and the wound that had been bleeding still, after all this time, suddenly skinned over.

"Ask what you want," Nigel uttered hoarsely. "I'll tell you anything. I'll do anything. Anything you fucking want."

Murder. Confess. Maybe even go to prison.

Nigel was a terrifying force that people feared. However, when it came to those who'd stolen his heart, he found himself lost in the desperate desire to be loved back and the absurd need to please, to satisfy their every whim in order to preserve that love.

The gloomy ending of his marriage with Gabi had made Nigel even more fiercely protective of his blooming relationship with Adam.

He would give him the world. He would do everything in his power to stay in Adam's regard.

But Adam wouldn't go anywhere, no matter what.

This time, no one would keep Nigel from the person he was doomed to fall in love with.

"Tell me about your scar," Adam asked quietly. "This one," he touched Nigel's forehead with his fingertips, tracing the contours of the scar on it, and Nigel shivered. Took a deep breath.

"I married the most beautiful woman in the world," he said. "She meant everything to me. I hoped we would be together always. But I lied to her, and she stopped loving me."

"Oh." Adam's comforting fingers froze for a second. "That's so sad. Lying is bad, but there are liars worth loving. She probably didn't know it."

"Maybe," Nigel allowed, then stopped.

It wasn't fair to Gabi.

 _He_ hadn't been fair to her.

"She was right," he said. "It was a big lie. When she married me, she thought I was a good person, but I fucking wasn't. She couldn't deal with it. I broke her heart, and she broke mine in return."

"How?" Adam continued with his gentle touches, distracting Nigel enough to ignore the still fresh agony and keep talking.

"She fell in love with another man. He was a fucking laughing stock," Nigel scoffed. "She'd never have been able to actually fucking live with him. He was a child, a penniless romantic full of stupid notions and noble ideals. He wasn't right for her."

"Then why did she fall in love with him?" Adam asked ingenuously.

A simple question.

Nigel only wished that an answer hadn't been as simple.

"Because he wasn't me," he said. The words burned like acid, and he licked his lips, trying to focus on Adam's presence rather than losing himself in suffocating memories. "Because she wanted to leave me and couldn't. She knew I wouldn't want to let her go and it scared her."

"I don't understand how it could scare her," Adam remarked. "Didn’t she understand what she was losing? Everyone always lets me go. I'd like it if someone decided to hold onto me. I think."

Catching Adam by the neck, Nigel pulled his down and kissed his lips, in gratitude and lust and madness.

These words.

It was too good, too perfect to be true, but fucking God, how much did he want to believe it.

Adam. His Adam. His boy.

"I will," he whispered as they broke apart and Adam stared at him. "I will hold onto you. Forever."

"Yeah?" Adam whispered back, looking awed instead of frightened, like he should have been.

"Yeah," Nigel swore, and the beaming smile he got in response made his head spin.

Adam rubbed his cheek against Nigel's hair, nuzzling him like a cat.

"Thank you," he said.

Changing his position to a more comfortable one, Nigel pressed Adam's hand to his heart and swallowed.

After Adam's words, talking about Gabi somehow seemed easier.

"She lied to me about her lover,” he continued. “Said he didn't mean anything to her. I knew it wasn't true, but I let it slide. Then she lied again, and I understood that what we had was over. I tried to—" Nigel stopped talking.

It had been a necessity back then. Now, it was like an admission of weakness.

"There was a police officer. I pretended that I had a gun, and he shot me."

Adam gasped and clenched Nigel's shirt in his fist.

"Very few people survive that," he murmured. "It was dangerous and foolish and reckless of you. You could die! I think..." Adam exhaled sharply. "I think it makes me angry. My stomach feels like something is burning inside it."

"It's okay," touched, Nigel sat up and pulled Adam to him, enjoying every tremor that ran through Adam’s body on his behalf. "It's okay now. It had to happen."

"Of course it didn't have to happen, what a stupid thing to say," Adam protested. "You should never do that again. And police are stupid. They tried to arrest me once, too, though I was just watching children. And you — you didn't even have a gun, how could they just shoot you in the head?"

"They knew I was dangerous." Nigel stared at Adam intently, waiting for his words to sink in, but Adam merely scowled.

"I don't see how you are a bad or a dangerous man from what you told me. The only truly bad person is the police officer who tried to kill you."

"Adam—"

"No," Adam glared at him, and the sight was surprisingly hot. Nigel had never seen him so furious before. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I want to listen any more today. I don't like your wife, and I don't like that officer. Can we just... watch the stars?"

"Yes," Nigel kissed Adam's chin slowly. "We can continue some other time. As I said — whatever you want."

Maybe it was for the better. Adam wasn't ready to know what Nigel truly was.

Maybe he never would be ready.

The thought was both comforting and disappointing.

 

 

***

 

 

The opening of the fresher version of the club was supposed to attract a huge crowd, and Adam spent the entire day alternately excited and on the verge of nervous breakdown. It was both funny and worrying to watch him.

The name ' _Pavo_ ' was made of letters of yellow, golden, and orange shades, and it shone in the way that even Nigel admired it. The whole club looked like some other mysterious and unexplored world. Nigel had never really cared about it, but for the first time, he was genuinely enjoying being here.

He was proud of it. Of Adam.

Of himself.

"Stop panicking," he ordered when Adam continued to fidget, checking the glowing spheres on the ceiling. "Everything is fucking perfect, and this evening will be fucking perfect, even if I have to kill someone to ensure it."

"How it can be perfect if you kill someone?" Adam demanded. "Why do you always mention killing someone at all — people might hear you!"

"You hear me."

"I don't care about that at all," Adam snapped in irritation, and Nigel laughed, jerking him closer.

"Everything will be perfect," he murmured again, right into his lips. "I know it will be."

"How can you know it? That's impossible. You say a lot of strange things today," shaking his head, Adam pushed him away and rushed to check yet another artificial star, and Nigel used the moment to pull out a cigarette.

He couldn't stop smiling.

 

At six, the club was officially opened, and people started to fill it. Adam closed himself in Nigel's office and watched everything from behind the glass wall, while Nigel occupied one of the tables. He felt unusually invested in the visitors' reaction, and he wanted to personally witness what they thought.

So far, everyone looked fucking impressed. Darko arrived at one point, annoyed and annoying as always.

"What did you tell your security, you motherfucker?" he asked as a greeting. "They refused to let me in until I paid for entrance."

"We need a lot of money tonight," Nigel replied, grinning. "Adam wants to compare the income before and after the renovations."

"I fucking don't want to hear about Adam any more," Darko said, slowly looking over the club. "Though I have to admit, it does look impressive. It must be the truth, then — people like him are genius when it comes to technology."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Nigel bristled. Darko just shook his head.

"In all years that I know you, you always manage to surprise me," he said. "You're an interesting man, Nigel, a very interesting man. Dumb as fuck sometimes, but so amusing to watch."

"You're testing my patience today," Nigel warned him. "Careful, or I'll fucking kick you out."

Darko made an unimpressed face and buried himself in the menu. As he motioned for Mary to come over, Adam's voice sounded behind them, "Good evening, Darko."

Nigel nearly choked on his cigarette, and Adam sent him a deeply disapproving look.

"Good evening," Darko answered after a pause. "To what do I owe the honor of personal greeting?"

Adam shrugged.

"You're Nigel's best friend. Your opinion is important to him, so I want you to like me."

"I don't fucking care about his fucking opinion!" Nigel exclaimed, indignant, and Adam's disapproving look sharpened.

"You promised not to lie," he warned, and Darko laughed like a fucking asshole he was.

Adam frowned, suddenly looking unsure and hurt, but as Nigel leaned to him, ready to reassure, someone shouted, "Adam! Hey, Adam!"

Nigel snapped his head in the direction of the voice and narrowed his eyes, seeing a small dark blonde waving at them. She was sitting at the table in a company of seven other men and women, and not all of them looked happy with her attempt to attract Adam's attention.

"Oh." Adam froze for a moment. "I didn't think about them."

"Who the fuck are they?" Nigel asked darkly.

"My colleagues," Adam started rubbing his hands against his sides nervously. "They like to go to parties, of course they came here. Of course. I should have realized. Stupid, stupid..."

"Adam!" the girl waved again. "Come here! Join us!"

"I can have them thrown out," Nigel's voice was dangerous, but Adam didn't seem affected. He shook his head several times and then took a deep breath.

"I have to greet them. It's polite. I'll return soon."

Nigel watched him leave, crushing the half-smoked cigarette in his fist.

"Calm down, Jesus fucking Christ," Darko raised his eyebrows. "They're just colleagues, and this is just conversation."

Nigel ignored him, not taking his eyes off Adam. He could see how hard he was trying to look relaxed, but the tension and stiffness in his back were unmistakable.

Nigel couldn't hear what Adam was saying, but he definitely saw how the girl, who could only be fucking Carol, tried to make Adam take a seat at their table. Adam shook his head, and Carol grabbed his wrist, giving him a wide smile.

It was too fucking much.

Rising to his feet, Nigel moved toward Adam, burning the offending hand of an intruder with his glare.

"Is there a problem?" he asked coldly.

Everyone stared at him.

"No, not at all," Carol stated. "It's just our friend — we didn't expect to see him here!"

"What's it to you? Who are you?" one of the men asked.

"I'm the owner of this fucking club."

"You don't have to worry, we're not causing any trouble or anything," the shrilly voice of Carol got Nigel's attention again. "Adam, sit down! We'll have a good time, I promise. It's been ages since you went out with us."

She grabbed his wrist again and tugged at it. Adam winced, and the last fucking thread of Nigel's patience snapped.

He clenched the girl's arm in a steely grip and hissed, "Take your fucking hand off him."

Carol gasped in shock, making another man jump to his feet.

"Don't touch her!" he growled. "What the fuck is wrong with you? What, you know the freak?"

"Henry, don't call him that!" Carol exclaimed, but Nigel was already releasing her.

"Do I know _whom_?" he asked lowly.

"The freak. Him," Henry pointed at Adam, and only the sight of the lost, beloved face stopped Nigel from acting on the dark rage that gripped him.

"You're talking about my fucking partner," he managed to say calmly. Carol gaped at him, looking shocked and embarrassed, and Henry let out an ugly laugh.

"Seriously? You're his partner?" he stared at Adam. "Do you ever speak to him, or do you just fuck him? And if you do speak to him, then how in the world do you live with someone like that, with his disorder?"

Nigel had no fucking idea what was going on, but the horrified and devastated look on Adam's face was enough of an answer.

He lunged.

And everything turned to blood.        


	4. The Fruits of Obsession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence in this chapter. Nothing too overt, but still. And thank you all so much for your constant support, I'm sort of embarrassed to elaborate on how much it means to me!

The nose of the fucker broke with a satisfying crunch. His pitiful wail was lovely, but not exactly what Nigel needed right now.

Another punch made fucking Henry choke on his scream and start moving away awkwardly, trying to cover his face. Nigel kicked him in the stomach, annoyed that the asshole was making things easy, feeling the old, familiar blood thirst awaken after months of sleep. Henry moaned and hugged his knees, so fucking pathetic that smashing his head to a pulp would be merciful.

Some other man stood up and grabbed Nigel by the shoulders, pulling him away. Snarling, Nigel whirled around and pummeled him, quickly knocking him to the ground.

Right now, every fucking asshole was as good as another, so Nigel jerked him by the hair and hit his head against the floor again and again and again, until his blood painted it in red.

In his wild state, Nigel barely heard any sounds, and when something heavy crashed into his back, he barely felt the impact. He wouldn't have even noticed if Darko didn't appear next to him suddenly, making several swift movements.

Turning, Nigel saw Henry's trembling form back on the floor, and a chair lying near him — the same chair he'd apparently hit Nigel with.

Darko sent him a dark glare, but when Henry attempted to move, he kicked him in the ribs himself.

"Enough," he hissed warningly, his voice more accented than usually. "You, stay down. You," he nodded at Carol. "Put your phone away. Right now, if you please. It was a misunderstanding that I hope we will be able to resolve."

Nigel spat on the floor, ignoring the disgusted looks sent his way.

"Where is Adam?" he asked, approaching Darko. Now that his fury began to retreat, he realized that Adam was not among the crowd.

Nigel’s heart sank, drowning in the uncomfortable, ominous feeling growing inside him.

Too much. He'd allowed himself too much — too violent, too unstable, too fucking stupid. Now that Adam had seen him like this, he would undoubtedly tell him to fuck off. If Gabi hadn't been able to accept him, then how could Adam, with his naive, sweet outlook?

"He left," Darko said, distracted, already taking out his phone. "You can follow him after you sort your mess out. You know how it is — when the police get involved, I'm out."

Henry continued to lie on the floor, looking fucking pathetic, so Nigel jerked in his direction, chuckling darkly when the man jumped.

"We'll be seeing each other. Soon," he promised, then looked at Darko again. "Do what you have to do," he said. "It's just a fucking fight in a fucking club. It won't be difficult to take care of."

"Do I need to remind you that I'm not your fucking hired help?" Darko asked harshly. "This is not my fucking job."

"I dealt with the shit at your club more than fucking once," Nigel hissed. "It won't kill you to help me with mine. I will return the favor, you have my fucking word on it, but right now I have more important things to attend to."

Darko's long stare let Nigel know that the conversation was far from finished, but at this moment, he couldn’t care less.

He had to go and see for himself if there was anything in his relationship with Adam that he could still salvage.

 

 

***

 

 

It was raining heavily.

When Nigel arrived to Adam's small cottage, he immediately noticed that the lights there were turned off. Frowning, he banged against the door, but no one answered.

Fuck.

Where the fuck was Adam? Why had he left — why had all this shit had to happen today of all days, when their club finally opened?

Nigel lowered himself on the sidewalk and grabbed a cigarette. With disgust, he realized his hands were shaking — maybe from the adrenaline still coursing in his veins, maybe from the realization that he had fucking ruined everything.

Both explanations were shitty.

He was fucking getting old.

Nigel stayed on the sidewalk for what seemed like hours, smoking one cigarette after another, ignoring the rain that kept showering him with cold water. Finally, when he started to fear that Adam wasn't going to come back at all, he saw a familiar, lonely silhouette moving down the road.

Dropping the cigarette, Nigel jumped to his feet and rushed to Adam. Seeing the way his body was shivering and how pale his skin was, worry retreated for a moment, replaced with a new wave of fury.

"What were you thinking?" Nigel barked, grabbing Adam and pulling him to his chest to warm him. It was pointless — Nigel himself had no fucking drop of warmth left, so he moved to the house, dragging Adam after him. "Did you fucking walk here?" he asked demandingly. "You're fucking wet."

"It's raining," Adam pointed out listlessly. He didn't fight when Nigel searched his pockets for keys, and said nothing when he started opening the door.          Only when they were inside, Adam seemed to come to his senses.

"What are you doing here?" he wondered, hugging himself nervously. "I never gave you my address, how did you know where to find me?"

"I will always find you," Nigel said. Adam sent him a dubious look.

"I'd like that," he admitted softly. "But it's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible when it comes to you and me." Nigel touched his face briefly. "You're cold. Go change your clothes — I'll make tea."

"Okay," Adam moved toward the stairs, then stopped. Turned back to him. "You should also change clothes," he said. "You are wet. I don't want you to be cold."

Nothing in Adam's voice suggested that he was angry with him, and for the first time, the tense knot in Nigel loosened.

"Give me something of yours, then," he murmured. "I'll be happy to smell like you."

 A deep frown marred Adam's forehead.

"That's a very strange thing to say," he answered. "But I'll give you some of my clothes if you want. I have a lot of it."

Nigel watched him go up.

 

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in the small kitchen, both with a cup of tea. Adam looked lovely in his oversized domestic clothes, and Nigel couldn't stop looking at him.

He imagined them spending every evening like this, sitting together in a warm, comfortable kitchen, drinking tea, talking.

Domestic bliss, something Nigel had always wanted, but was never sure how to get.

There was still a chance. He refused to believe that everything could be lost.

 "Why did you leave?" he asked quietly. "I was worried about you."

Adam looked somewhere above his head.

"I felt bad," he said, his voice even. "Everything was so loud and terrible. And you were angry — I have never seen you so angry before. I didn't know if you were angry with me or just with Henry, so I decided to go."

"Angry with you?" Nigel repeated. Incredulously, he pushed the cup of the tea away. "How could you fucking think that, why would I be angry with you?"

Adam risked glancing at him once, and Nigel saw that he was frowning again.

"Because I hid the truth from you," Adam uttered. He stood up suddenly, and Nigel followed his movement. "It can be said that I lied to you, even though I really hate lies. I hate myself for doing it, but... I liked you very much. I wanted you to like me too."

The world had officially gone fucking insane.

"I don't understand a fucking word from what you're saying, sweetheart,"  Nigel confessed. Adam's miserable face was driving him fucking crazy, making him want to rage and destroy everything until he saw that brilliant smile again.

Adam let out a strange half-sob, half-laugh, and Nigel moved to him involuntarily, ready to offer comfort.

"No, no, don't touch me," Adam breathed out, and Nigel froze. "I know you heard Henry. Everyone heard him, and you were standing nearby, right next to him, you know what he said."

"I didn't really listen to that fucking asshole. What did he say? Other than fucking insulting you."

Adam's eyes filled with tears, causing Nigel's heart to stop again, skipping a few beats.

Fucking God. It was fucking impossible to see.

"Adam. Look at me."

Despite everything, Adam obeyed, sniffling quietly.

"Are you angry with me for beating up Henry?"

Adam shook his head, and a relieved smile touched Nigel's lips briefly.

"Good," he said. "Are you angry with me for being rude to that friend of yours, Carol?"

"No," Adam murmured. "I don't like that you cursed at her, but you curse at everyone but me, so I'm used to it. I like that you protected me, it made me feel good. Safe."

"That's the most important thing," unable to control himself any longer, Nigel grinned widely. Things were much, much better than he'd expected.

Adam never ceased to amaze him.

However, his little marvel still looked unhappy, so Nigel asked gently, "What? Tell me why you thought I'd be angry with you."

"Because Henry is right," Adam turned away from him abruptly. "I have a development disorder and it's difficult to be in relationship with me."

"What?" Nigel tried to touch him, but Adam stepped away, still refusing to turn around. "Sweetheart, it makes no sense. What fucking development disorder? What does it mean?"

"I have Asperger's," Adam attempted to talk calmly, but his voice was shaking, and Nigel ached to soothe him. "It means that I can't recognize social cues and therefore I don't know to interact with people. I say a lot of wrong things, I can offend others without meaning to do it, I talk too much, and it's difficult for me to understand when the person is bored and pretends to listen to me just to be polite. I don't understand jokes or sarcasm or hints. I can seem stupid, and people don't like it," Adam took a deep trembling breath. Then his shoulders sagged.

"I decided to try and hide it," he whispered. "I bought a lot of books and I read all of them. I started to watch people in places where I felt uncomfortable, to get used to stressful social situations. It worked, I did get better. My colleagues started to ask me out with them, I made friends, like Carol. And then I met you, and I hoped you'd never wonder why I act strangely. I hoped you would think I'm normal, like everyone else. I hoped you would like me, and you did, you said so, but then Henry... I hate him!" Adam's voice suddenly rose in volume. "I hate him, he ruined everything! He deserved to be punched! Why did he have to say anything, why, why, why!"

"Adam!" this time Nigel did grab him by the shoulders and forcefully made him face him.

Adam was crying, and looked as if his world had ended. Nigel took hold of his face almost harshly.

"Look at me. Look at me," he ordered, and waited until gray eyes focused on him. "This Asperger's — is it dangerous to you? To your health? Can it be treated?"

"No," Adam sniffed. "To both questions."

"Okay. So what does it mean exactly? Just that you're shitty in social interactions?"

"I really hate this word,” Adam complained, and childishly wiped his nose with his sleeve. "As for your question, Asperger's is characterized by many symptoms. It's a form of Autism — do you know what it means?"

"Yes, I know," Nigel frowned.

Autism? Adam was strange at times, true, but autistic? Nigel had never gotten this impression. His boy was quirky, unusual, uniquely charming, and it was a part of his fucking irresistibility.

How the fuck had Darko failed to mention this?

His silence was obviously damaging, because a fresh portion of tears began to flow down Adam's cheeks. He jerked, trying to free himself from Nigel's grasp, but stronger people had tried and failed.

No one could get away from him, not when he wasn't willing to let go.

"It doesn't matter, Adam,” Nigel said. “Do you hear me? It doesn't fucking matter."

"You might say so now, but you will change your mind," Adam's voice was quavering.

"Adam—"

"You will. Everyone does when they learn the truth. I found a site once, where people in relationship with aspies wrote their thoughts. They were very hurtful and upsetting, but... but I think they might have been true. Beth told me some of those exact things before. That is why I promised myself to try harder next time, to try harder with you, and you, you mean so much to me. I didn't want to lose you. That's why I lied. I'm sorry."

"Adam!" Nigel shook his head, at the loss for words.

All this time, he'd thought he was the one whose instability threatened their relationship. And Adam had fucking thought the same about himself?

It was hard to wrap his mind around it.

It was hard to understand why these news had to change anything.

"Sweetheart," Nigel murmured, softer this time, and when Adam looked up, he bent his head down and kissed him. Adam answered his kiss, unsure, and then suddenly leaned forward, hugging Nigel tightly and with surprising strength.

"It won't change anything," Nigel said when they broke apart. Seeing Adam's glazed eyes and flushed cheeks, he shook him, hoping to be heard. "It won't fucking change anything," he repeated. "Who cares about fucking labels? You are smart and talented, you can fucking live on your own without needing anyone. Being with you is a privilege, not a fucking hardship. Do you understand?"

Adam stared at him for a while, seemingly speechless.

"That's the nicest thing I have ever heard," he said finally, and his words were so hopeful that another surge of tenderness flooded Nigel. "Do you mean it? You won't take it back?"   

"I won't," Nigel replied. "Fucking never."

They kissed again, deeper this time. Almost on their will, Nigel's hands slipped lower, studying the curve of Adam's back and his buttocks, trapping him between the table and his own body.      

Desire started to cloud his mind, but before doing anything, he had to say more. He had to make sure.

"I was aggressive, today," Nigel uttered hoarsely. "I attacked the man you work with, even though he was a fucking asshole. I need to know if it scared you. Did I scare you? Adam?"

"No," Adam stared at his mouth unblinkingly. "I thought that you were mad at me and that you would hit me too, but you said you weren't. I believe you."

"I would never fucking do that. I would never hit you, you understand?" Nigel raised Adam's face slightly, holding him by his chin. "I will be controlling and I will be a fucking jerk at times, but I will never hit you. And I will fucking destroy those who hurt you."

"I like that," Adam sighed, melting in his embrace and sending him the most beautiful look. "Kiss me again."

Nigel didn't need to be told twice.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed, until they couldn't any more. Nigel was panting, and Adam's lips were red and swollen, his breathing short.

"I want to have sex with you," Adam blurted out. "Do you want it?"

A little taken aback, Nigel raised his eyebrows, and Adam's face fell.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked.

Instead of answering, Nigel picked him up, waiting until Adam instinctively wrapped his limbs around him, and then moved toward the stairs. Adam laughed, rubbing his cheek against Nigel's shoulder.

"Are we going to the bedroom, to have sex?" he murmured.

"We sure fucking are," Nigel said, and tightened his grip around the smaller body.

A dark feeling was rising within him, feeding the obsessive monster that kept growling from starvation impatiently.

There was no going back after this.

For either of them.

 

 

***

 

 

Adam's soft gasps were music that made Nigel unrelenting in his desire.

Adam's hazy stare and flushed cheeks, all framed by dark curls, made him fucking ethereal.

Nigel wanted to fuck him when he looked at him.

He wanted to fuck him as their clothes fell, as their naked bodies touched for the first time.

He wanted to fuck him even as he actually fucked him, the tightness and heat and moans only increasing his need, need that had already passed all borders of sanity.

He was forceful — maybe too forceful, his hard thrusts making Adam exhale sharply, making him try to shift unconsciously and moan when Nigel held him down and thrust again, even harder.

He couldn't remember the last time he had such intense sex, with a partner that was so innocent and genuine in their reactions. Adam didn't attempt to hide his excitement, pain, and pleasure — he moaned and whimpered and sighed, and then just wrapped himself tightly around Nigel, with both hands and legs, trusting him to bring him to sweet release.

He did.

Afterward, Nigel allowed himself to relax, but Adam kept vibrating with energy. His fingers and lips traced every scar Nigel's body had, murmuring about the stars and constellations they resembled, so quietly that it was probably meant for himself. Still, Nigel listened.

He'd read some of the books about the space and everything it contained, and he could honestly admit that it wasn't that interesting to him. But when Adam talked about it, in the voice that was so fascinated, so alive, Nigel felt ready to listen to him forever.

"This one looks terrifying," Adam said suddenly. Nigel blinked lazily, watching how Adam carefully touched the long, curved scar across his ribs.

"It almost killed me," he said. "Fucking job went wrong."

Adam's eyes stayed fixed on Nigel's ribs.

"How did you survive?" he whispered. "It is so... so deep. People die from wounds like this. I know it. I read about it."

Nigel buried his fingers in Adam's hair, tugging at the dark locks softly.

"I was dying," he murmured, thoughtful. "I won that fight and I came back home, but I knew death was there. I fucking saw it."

Adam recoiled, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"You saw death?" he asked. "How? It can't be visible, it's not a human or an animal — it's a concept."

Laughing, Nigel pulled him back to his side.

"I know, sweetheart," he assured him. "It's just a figure of speech. But I can swear that I fucking saw it. Some milky, strange, transparent substance, cold and deadly. I knew it was there for me. I looked right at it, and I knew it was looking at me. I was ready for it to take me, but then... I heard music. Fucking music," Nigel laughed again, and was concerned when he realized how bitter and tired his laughter sounded.

"Gabi was playing on her cello," he added, calmer. "My Gabi. My future wife."

Adam stopped touching his scar and pursed his lips tightly.

"I'm sorry," he said after a pause. "I don't understand your story. I don't understand how people can see death, and what your wife was doing there, and how you knew she was going to be your wife—"

"Come here," Nigel patted the place near him, and Adam moved there readily.

Holding him, Nigel started to talk, trying to stick to the facts. Adam listened intently, absorbing his every word with such intense expression that Nigel felt weirdly flustered.

It was nice, feeling like the centre of someone's universe.

Of Adam's universe.

At one point, Adam hugged him by the neck and hid his face in his shoulder, so his breath warmed Nigel's skin. Touched, Nigel stroked his back, enjoying the offered comfort, unable to stop looking at him.

"Do you still love her?" Adam asked when he fell silent. "Gabi," he clarified when Nigel didn't answer. "Because you sound like you love her. You were with her for a long time, longer than Beth and I. And you were married."

"Some part of me will probably always love her," Nigel said. "She meant everything to me once. I still grieve her."

"I don't like it," Adam hugged Nigel tighter, possessively. "You're mine. It upsets me that you love someone else."

Absolutely disarmed, Nigel let a strange, choked sound escape him.

"Sweetheart," he murmured. "My darling. You should never worry about Gabi. She's gone. She was a big part of my life and I will always miss her, but she was the wrong person for me. I was a fucking asshole and couldn't accept it then, but now I understand. You helped me understand it."

"I did?" Adam raised his head, and the petulant expression left his face, replaced with a hopeful one.

"You can fucking bet you did," Nigel said fondly.

Adam kissed him and snuggled up to him even closer.

"Please don't ever do that," he whispered. "All these fights, police chases. I don't like it, it's dangerous and you can get hurt again. You can't leave me now — you promised."

"I did," Nigel rubbed his face against soft hair. "And I won't. I can promise that as many times as you fucking want."

Adam stroked his biggest scar again, still carefully, as if scared that it might hurt him.

"Music can't really save people," he said. "But even if it doesn't make sense, I'm glad it did. I'm glad you're here, with me."

"Me too," Nigel closed his eyes. "Me too."

And fucking no one would take it away.

 

 

***

 

 

Darko was still at the club when Nigel arrived there in the morning. Thankfully, there was no police, no other intruders, so Nigel walked straight to the bar and grabbed a bottle of scotch from there.

"Seriously?" Darko asked flatly. "I go through these hellish hours trying to clean up your mess, and you fucking decide to get drunk? After the night of absence?"

"I'm not going to get fucking drunk," Nigel snapped, taking a sip, mostly out of the habit. "What happened here?"

"I dealt with the police. A piece of cake — they're used to the fights between the drunks. Dealing with men you've beaten, though, might not be so simple."

Nigel tensed.

"What does it mean?" he asked coldly. If any of those fucking assholes tried to press fucking charges...

"I paid them off nicely, but it was to save your ass from getting harassed by the police. Adam might not be so lucky. This is a small town, Nigel, such shit, if stirred, will be remembered. They all work in the same place. Adam may have difficulties facing his coworkers in the future, they will be very pissed at him."

"They can try to be," Nigel promised darkly, pushing the bottle away. It tasted like shit — how could he fucking drink it before? "Thanks for the warning. I'll make sure they fucking disappear before Adam gets any shit from them."

"Nigel!" Darko raised his voice. "If they disappear or if they are found dead in some fucking hole, you will be the first suspect. Adam will be one, too. So don't do anything foolish, all right? I got enough on my plate from the police in Bucharest because of you and your silly spat with Gabriella."

For the first time, hearing this name spoken aloud didn't hurt at all.

Nigel smiled absentmindedly, thinking about the sleepy boy he had left in the kitchen of the small cottage, the one who insisted that he had to have breakfast at the specific time, and not a second later.

Sweet. Charming, like Adam was himself.

"Oh no," Darko narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me."

"What?"

"I know this fucking look. Don't tell me you actually slept with him."

"Mind your own fucking business," Nigel advised him, but he was still smiling, and Darko laughed, although without mirth.

"I don't know if it's good or disturbing," he said, and Nigel's smile disappeared.

"That reminds me of something,” he said lowly. “Why didn't you fucking say anything about fucking Asperger's to me? What were you fucking aiming for? I ask you to find me information on Adam, you give me some meaningless tips, like his fucking address and the name of his fucking ex-girlfriend, but fail to mention he's on the fucking spectrum?"

"I'm frankly surprised you know anything about spectrum," Darko took out his pack of cigarettes, eyeing Nigel warily. "As for my reasons, I assure you, no harm was meant. I thought you'd figure it out on your own — I mean, Adam clearly has... peculiarities."

"He's fucking no stranger than many people I have met. If not for that fucking asshole, I'd still be oblivious. So what kind of fucking disorder is it that it's impossible to tell if the person has it?"

"I read about it a little bit, but I cannot offer you anything," realizing no attack was coming, Darko relaxed. "Ask him or go read your own books. Fucking him is one thing, but if you're considering a relationship — and you definitely are, we've already been through this — then you should know what you're getting yourself into. He's sick, Nigel."

"Shut up, he's not fucking—"

"Well, he has problems, serious problems. You may find his strangeness attractive now, but it's entirely possible that you'll grow weary of it with time, so learn everything before making a decision."

"My decision it fucking made," Nigel put the bottle with scotch back to its shelf, pushing it to the farthest corner. "Thank you," he added after consideration. "For helping me out tonight. But you are still a fucking bastard for not telling me anything."

"Not my secret to share."

"As if that'd ever stop you," Nigel curled his lips. "When are you leaving to Bucharest? Your son must be waiting for you."

"In two weeks," Darko cocked his head. "You are evidently better. Although next time you beat up your visitors, you be ready to deal with it by yourself."

Nigel nodded, then hesitated.

"Can you watch the club for tonight?” he asked. “I'd like to take Adam somewhere."

"Not a problem. I have to meet some people, I can do it here. But you owe me, Nigel, and you owe me fucking big time."

 "Deal," Nigel agreed, though his thoughts kept coming back to Adam in his cottage.

He was probably on his way to work now.

Which meant that soon, he would see fucking Henry and the second asshole, whatever his fucking name was.

If they tried anything...

But even if they didn't try it, should Nigel leave them alone? _Could_ he?

And Carol. He still didn't get what her fucking deal was, but he didn't fucking like her.

Maybe he had to let Adam decide. After all, it was his fucking place to do it, considering he was the one hurt most.

But no one fucking insulted his partner and got away with their life intact.

 

Nigel was still undecided when he arrived to his apartment. The powerful surge of emotions he felt at the thought of Adam conflicted with his offended pride on Adam's behalf, making him itch with desire to repeat the last night's battery.

Only this time, no one would be there to stop him.

 He and Adam hadn't made any plans for today, so Nigel decided to wait for Adam's work to end before taking him somewhere. Out of boredom, he went out and bought a local newspaper, where one of the pages was dedicated to his club and the fight that had occurred in it.

No one mentioned him directly, and the majority of the material was enthusiastic description of the interior and the space theme. Smirking, Nigel carefully tore the page from the newspaper and got rid of the bits about the fight.

Adam would fucking love to see his work appreciated.

The day passed quietly, if lonely, so when his phone rang, Nigel grabbed it instantly.

"Hello, darling," he purred. "I was hoping you would call."

There was silence on the other end at first, and then he heard a quiet sob.

All happiness evaporated, replaced by dread.

"Adam," fear made his voice sound sharp. "What happened? Talk to me."

"I was... I was fired," Adam's despair could be felt physically. "They fired me! I... I have to move to another city now, and I can't, I don't want to, I didn't even do anything! Henry said I provoked the fight, but... but... it's a lie! He lied! Why did he lie? He was the one who talked badly about me, and you were the one to start the fight, I was just standing there!"

"Sweetheart—"

"It's not fair!" Adam screamed. "I hate him, I hate Henry! He's a liar and a bully and he always hated me, and I wish he was dead!"

Nigel was seeing red. His voice sounded almost inhuman when he growled, "Your wish is my fucking command."

Throwing the phone into his pocket, Nigel approached his bed shelf and took out the gun. Making sure it's loaded, he placed it under his shirt, grabbed his car keys, and left the apartment.

All he needed now was the fucking address.

 

 

***

 

 

The streets were dark when Nigel parked near the building where Henry was supposed to live, his black, pulsing anger no less powerful than it had been two hours ago.

Adam's losing his job was disastrous in several ways at once. Apart from being an excruciating experience for his boy who clearly craved stability, it could also ruin the relationship they had managed to build. Who knew what was happening in Adam's head — if he blamed Nigel for fucking up his favorite job, all bets were off.

Adam wouldn't have risked leaving him if he understood how dangerous Nigel was, what consequences it might have.

But Adam being Adam? He wouldn't get it. Adam was simple in this way, now Nigel understood it. If Adam was with him, it was because he wanted to be.

Would it even be possible to threaten him into staying?

Nigel had no fucking idea.

And he didn't fucking want to check, meaning that Henry was going to pay for fucking everything.

Who would have thought that a measly, insignificant fight could escalate to this, to Adam’s losing his job? What the fuck were his employers thinking about?

Nigel breathed in slowly, then exhaled.

Clenching the gun in his hand, he reached the second floor and knocked on the door.

If Henry fucking refused to open, he would fucking break his way in, and fuck the neighbors. If the police in Bucharest had failed to arrest him, even after fucking Charlie's testimony, then the police of Flintridge wouldn't even know how to fucking approach him.

The door opened, and the annoyance on Henry's face immediately changed to horror.

Without saying a word, he tried to shut the door, but Nigel had already managed to push his foot inside.

"Hi there, Henry," he said, his voice fakely cheerful. "You wouldn't mind letting me in, would you?"

Not waiting for the answer, Nigel threw a punch at the offending and already battered face. Crying out, Henry stumbled into the apartment, and Nigel followed him.

“We’re going to have some fun,” he said. “I told you we would be seeing each other again, didn’t? Or did you not take me seriously?”

Henry let out a loud noise, covering his bleeding nose.

“I must admit, it upsets me, Henry,” Nigel continued, looking into the kitchen and bathroom to make sure they were alone. “I don’t like it when people don’t take me seriously. I dislike it even more when these people attack my partner and contribute to his dismissal from the job he fucking loves. Do you know what I mean?”

"Don't try to pin it on me!" Henry yelped, shaking. "You were the one who attacked me! Maybe your friend managed to pay the police off, but it doesn't mean no one else will take actions! I swear to God, this time it’ll be you who I’ll report if you don't leave my apartment right now!"

"You will?" Nigel drawled, amused, and Henry nodded several times.

"I will, so get the fuck out of here!"

"I'm sorry, Henry — it's Henry, isn't it? I'm afraid I must decline your offer. See, you will be in no state to report me. Corpses cannot speak."

Henry gaped at him like some fucking fish.

"A-are you s-serious?" he stammered. "You're going to kill me? Are you crazy, I didn't even do anything! So I ratted the frea- Adam. I ratted him out, but it's not my fault they dismissed him, they said they had been planning to do that anyway!"

Nigel hit him, hard enough to send him to the floor. When Henry tried to scream, he hit him again, this time right across his mouth to shut him up.

Coughing blood, Henry managed to only whimper.

Nigel walked to the computer standing in the corner, found the music, and turned it on at full volume.

Loud sounds filled the flat, and Henry's terrified eyes showed that he understood very well why music was needed.

"You have a bad tendency to call my partner unsavory names," Nigel drawled. "It really fucking annoys me. I thought you realized this yesterday, but some people just don't learn from their mistakes. You seem to be one of them, Henry."

When the man opened his bloody lips to argue, Nigel kicked him in the face, and then again in the stomach. His anger was still fresh, sending waves of acid through his veins, his rage intensifying every time he thought of what the actions of this fucking worm might cost him.

Only when Henry's voice turned hoarse from screams and Nigel's knuckles were torn, he took a break, smoking a cigarette and watching a barely moving body. 

"Well," he said. "Nice meeting you, Henry, but I think it's time for you to go now."

Ignoring muffled pleas, Nigel hid the stub in his pocket, cocked his gun, and roughly pushed it into Henry's mouth.

"Any last words?" he asked. The animalistic fear in the man's eyes was familiar to him — the fear that came at the realization that one's life was about to end. The fear he had seen on other faces before, more times than he cared to remember.

Through sobs and with the gun in his mouth, Henry couldn't really say anything, and Nigel doubted it would be something worthy anyway.

Making sure that horrified, pleading eyes stared at him, he pulled the trigger.

The music and the silencer made the gunshot barely audible, but the blood that splattered across the wall behind Henry was immensely satisfying. Allowing himself a small, cold smile, Nigel put the gun back on safety and turned to the door.

And froze.

Adam was standing there, looking as sweet and innocent as always.

Clueless.

Trusting.

Shocked, Nigel tried to hide Henry's body behind his back, but he knew it was hopeless. Adam had already seen it, or maybe he had even witnessed the murder itself.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

In panic, Nigel couldn't find the words. His throat went dry, and his hands, perfectly steady before, shook when he raised them to nervously wipe the blood from his face.

"Why is the music so loud?" was the first thing Adam asked, and Nigel blinked.

"Well..." he glanced at the computer. "I can turn it down?"

"Yes, please."

When Nigel moved to take care of the music, Adam glanced at the dead body, and surprise on his face made Nigel's heart clench painfully in his chest.

"Is this your apartment?" Adam asked. Nigel licked his lips, not sure where this was going.

"No," he said. "Why? What are you even fucking doing here?" 

His voice was so hoarse, it was almost unrecognizable — as if it had been Nigel screaming all this time, not fucking Henry.

"I went to the club soon after our conversation," Adam was still staring at the corpse, so Nigel stepped in front of it again. "I hoped to see you, but you weren't there, and the new security didn't want to let me in. Darko helped me, he told them they had to always let me in without any questions," a ghost of a smile touched Adam's lips, but soon disappeared again. "I asked Darko where you were and he didn't know. He then asked me what you and I had been talking about, and when I told him, he cursed a lot, even more than you usually do. Then he made a phone call. Then he gave me this address."

"Fucking idiot," Nigel growled. He couldn't fucking believe this — was Darko out of his fucking mind?

Adam's eyes flew wide open.

"Are you talking about me?" he asked, hurt, and Nigel nearly groaned.

"No. No, sweetheart." Despite the fear of being rejected, he approached Adam, and almost staggered from relief when Adam willingly let him take his hand.

"No," he repeated again. "I was talking about fucking Darko. He shouldn't have told you where I am, it's fucking dangerous."

Adam glanced at Henry again.

"Did you do that to him?" he asked slowly. "He looks... dead."

"He fucking _is_ dead."

"Why?" Adam stared at him, and Nigel suddenly felt very old.

"Because he was a fucking asshole," he snapped. "Because he fucking hurt you, and you fucking told me you wished he'd been dead. Now he fucking is."

"Oh." Adam bit his lower lip in agitation. "I'm sorry, Nigel, I think you misunderstood me. I didn't mean that you should kill him — killing is illegal. I... I don't know how to feel about that."

Sensing that not everything had been lost, Nigel tightened his grip on Adam's hand, looking into his eyes almost desperately.

"Just don't do anything rash, okay?" he whispered. "Think before making a decision."

"What decision?" Adam asked, frowning. "What should I not do?"

"Tell me to go fuck myself? Tell me to never approach you again? Call the fucking cops?"

"Oh!" understanding shone in Adam's eyes. "Right. Uhm... I know people are supposed to call the police when something bad happens, but I said to you before, I don't..."

"...like the police."

"Yes, I don't like them. And I don't like Henry," Adam looked at the body, the expression on his face not changing. "I still don't like him," he added. "I'm not sorry he's dead. He said a lot of terrible things about you today and he kept talking even when I pushed him—"

"You pushed him?" Nigel interrupted incredulously.

"Yes. And that's when Mr. Sommers came out and asked me to come to his office," Adam's breathing suddenly quickened. "He said... there is no work for me any more. Henry had blamed me for the fight and complained to Mr. Sommers, and he asked me about it, but when I tried to explain, he didn't even listen..."

"Adam," Nigel squeezed Adam's shoulders and pushed him toward a small kitchen, away from this goddamn awful room.

Adam hadn't really been reacting like the majority of people in similar situation before, so his panic now was actually a relief. Nigel made him sit down on the chair and hovered nearby, trying to decide what to do.

They should really leave this fucking apartment —even though Henry lived in a shit-hole and his neighbors would be unlikely to react to the loud music and call the police, there was still a certain amount of risk.

But leaving now, when nothing was decided...

After short deliberation, Nigel went to the door, closed it, and turned off the light in the room with a corpse. When he came back to the kitchen, Adam hadn't changed his position, but he began to rock slightly, staring at the wall almost unblinkingly.

"Did your fucking employer believe that piece of shit instead of you?"

"P-piece of shit?" Adam asked weakly, and Nigel cursed.

"Fucking Henry," he growled. "How could they fucking fire you based only on his words, over something you didn't even do?"

There was a long pause, and then Adam murmured, "Mr. Sommers didn't fire me."

"What?"

"He didn't fire me, but it's all the same," Adam's voice quavered. "He said he's going to transfer me back to New York. The position I had initially applied for became available again, and Mr. Sommers said I'd be more useful there than here. He was waiting to tell me, so Henry's accusations were very timely. That what Mr. Sommers called them. Now I have to move again, and it means leaving my home, and club, and you. It means leaving YOU!" Adam's voice gained volume so unexpectedly that Nigel flinched. "I don't want to leave you, I don't want to break up with you! I've only just found you — I love you! They can't force me to leave!"

Stunned, Nigel watched how Adam burst into tears. The monster inside him came to his senses first and began to purr in response to the heard words, but Nigel himself felt confounded.

It was not something he had expected.

It was not something he knew he had even wanted to hear — and God, how much did he fucking want it.

The joy that washed over him was addictively powerful. Unable to stop a smile from stretching his lips, definitely looking like a fucking idiot, Nigel pulled Adam into a harsh kiss, greedily swallowing his protests along with his tears.

When they separated, Adam looked confused but breathless, and Nigel had never felt more alive than he did at this moment.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart," he murmured. "And no one's fucking breaking up any time soon."

His words seemed to only worsen the situation, because fury flashed in Adam's eyes.

"Of course you're not going anywhere!" he cried. "Did you hear what I said? I'm the one who's being transferred, I have to move, and you won't follow me, because no one does! And you, you killed Henry, and the police will know, and they will take you to prison forever, because even Beth's father was sentenced to years, and he was just a fraud!"

Nigel didn't fully understand how the fact of the murder seemed less important in Adam's mind than his transfer to fucking New York — once again, it was too fucking good to be true, but Adam's anguish at the perspective of leaving was palpable.

"Listen," he uttered, gently wiping Adam's tears from his face. "You don't have to fucking worry about New York. If you must go, I will go with you."

"What?" Adam's eyes flew open. "You'll... you'll go with me? You'll move with me to New York?"

"Why the fuck not?" Nigel's smile got wider at the obvious shock and careful hope in Adam's eyes.

"But the club — we just opened it. You are the owner, how can you leave?"

"Fuck the club," Nigel squeezed Adam's hands in his and nuzzled them, enjoying the soft, delighted sigh he got in response. "We can fucking open one in New York. We can use the same name, and we'll take most of the things you've created — those glowing spheres, stars, planets, even fucking system of light."

"You'll go with me?" Adam repeated again, this time in quiet awe. "And you won't change your mind?"

"I sure fucking won't," Nigel chuckled, amused.

Adam clearly underestimated the level of his... _attachment_ to him. Did he seriously think Nigel would have let him go to fucking New York and leave him fucking behind? To sever their relationship like that?

Not a chance. Not a fucking chance. 

In the next second, his arms became full of his boy, who once again wrapped himself around him with all of his limbs, nearly toppling him to the floor.

Laughing, Nigel kissed every strip of Adam's skin he could reach, feeling pleasant warmth filling him. Adoration threatened to suffocate him in its clutches — adoration toward his little spaceman who somehow seemed to embrace and appreciate Nigel's darkest parts, the parts that had terrified and repulsed Gabi.

He didn't know how it was possible, but he intended to enjoy it as long as he could.  

"What about the police?" Adam asked, his voice sounding muffled because he was still pressed against Nigel tightly. "And Henry?"

Nigel pulled back a little, studying Adam intently.

"We will go to the club now," he said. "We'll use the back entrance, and then we will make sure every fucking visitor sees us. When the police finally ask us where we were today, we'll say we spent the entire evening and night at the club."

"But it's a lie."

"Useful lie," Nigel twisted one of Adam's dark curls in his fingers. "It will help us go to New York and be fucking happy there. You want it, don't you?"

"Yes," Adam admitted, frowning. "I suppose it _is_ useful, even though I still don't like it. Killing people is bad, I don't think you should do it again."

"Even if those people are bad?"

 "Oh." Adam seemed to think about it. "Doesn't killing people, even if they are bad, make you a bad person as well?"

"Depends on how to look at it, I guess. It does, in a way, but doesn't it also make me a protector? Henry can't fucking hurt you now, can he?"

"No, he can't," Adam said slowly. Then smiled. "You did it for me," he murmured, as if savoring the words. "Does it mean that you love me?"

Nigel was speechless for a moment. He looked into happy, hopeful eyes, at the mouth that was so frequently curved in an innocent smile — smile that didn't lose its innocence even when Adam talked about the darkest things.

He thought about the fact that he'd never felt so accepted and cared for, so fucking happy. That happiness had never been so liberating and desirable before he understood how fucking excruciating it was to live without it.

There was only one answer to this question. It didn't even require thinking.

"Yes," Nigel said. "I do. Of course I fucking do."

Adam's eyes filled with tears, only this time, they were accompanied by the brilliant smile that never failed to make Nigel's fucking heart stop.

And he was going to make sure that it never fucking faded again.


	5. The Life of Obsession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks! :) I had an absolutely wonderful experience with this story. 
> 
> This is something like a short epilogue, not an actual chapter, but I thought the story wouldn't be full without it.)

 

_Five Months Later_

 

"I don't like it here."

"Everything is going to be fine."

"I'm going to embarrass you."

"You fucking cannot embarrass me, get this fucking thought out of your head."

A petulant sigh was all answer Nigel received.

Placing his empty glass on the tray of the nearest waiter, he turned to Adam and took his shoulders in a gentle grip. Adam refused to meet his eyes.

Bad sign.

"Look at me," Nigel ordered softly, and it worked, as always — Adam immediately obeyed, reacting to the quiet command in his voice. "Everything is going to be fine," Nigel repeated. "It's just a fucking fundraising event. We give these people our money — it means we can fucking trash this place and no one would say anything. Got it?"

"You always say stupid things," Adam replied, but he began to smile fondly. "Surely they would care if we trashed this place. And why would we trash it — it's beautiful. Or it would have been without people here."

"I thought you got used to them. There are more jerks in ‘ _Pavo’_ than here."

"Yes, but that's our place. Here..." Adam wrinkled his nose in distaste, a habit that Nigel was fucking in love with. "I don't like it," he finished, pouting, and Nigel laughed before giving him a short, rough kiss.

He would have loved to go further, and fuck those who might be watching, but in the next moment, a shocked female voice exclaimed, "Adam!"

Scowling, Nigel turned his head, watching an intruder with narrowed eyes.

A dark-haired woman was staring at them, with a glass of champagne in her hands, looking so surprised that Nigel's hackles rose  immediately.

"Adam," she said again, softer. "I can't believe it's really you. I thought you were in California?"

"Beth!" Adam exclaimed, breaking into a small but genuine smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm making my contribution — it's for a good cause. My book has been a success, so I can allow myself to help others, at least a little bit."

Nigel stepped in front of Adam, so Beth's eyes would snap to him automatically. He was sure that the cold look he sent her was enough of a warning, but Adam suddenly pinched him, hissing, "Why are you blocking my view? This is impolite, Nigel, I can't see anything!"

Annoyed, Nigel moved, but only slightly, making Adam pinch him again before peering from behind his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Beth," he uttered, "Nigel gets very jealous sometimes and tries to scare people, but you don't have to be afraid. Nothing will happen."

"Oh," Beth produced the fakest fucking smile Nigel had ever seen. "And Nigel is?.."

"His partner," he didn't bother to offer his hand. They sure as fuck wouldn't be seeing each other again.

"Partner," Beth echoed, glancing at his forehead and looking away quickly. "I didn't know you liked men, Adam."

Nigel glowered at her.

What a fucking idiot. She had supposedly spent months with Adam, but she still didn't fucking know how to phrase her fucking questions?

Adam, oblivious, chuckled.

"Of course I like men, Beth. I liked my father and I like Harlan and I like Darko, and I like Nigel very much."

Beth gaped at him. Then, clearly coming to her senses, laughed awkwardly.

"I got it," she said. "You really haven't changed at all, Adam."

Nigel could tell she meant it in a good way, but he also knew that Adam would take it as critique.

Naturally, Adam tensed, and all traces of smile left his face.

"Do you want to leave, sweetheart?" Nigel asked, successfully snapping Adam's attention back to him.

"Yes," Adam said. "But we can't. You still haven't met that man you were supposed to."

At this moment, Nigel was sorely tempted to send everything and everyone to hell and to just go home, as far away from this fucking woman as possible.

"Listen, I'm sitting there, with my friends," Beth pointed at one of the tables. "Would you two care to join us?"

"No, thank you," Adam said before Nigel could open his mouth. "I didn't like anyone from your old friends, Beth, and I don't think I will like your new ones. And Nigel hates all people he meets in the events like this, so he won't like them too."

Nigel almost laughed at the expression on Beth's face, affronted and hesitant at the same time.

To her credit, she composed herself pretty quickly.

"Then we can just stand here and talk. To catch up, you know? I haven't seen you in ages!"

"In two years," Adam corrected. "And of course you haven't seen me, I was in Flintridge, California."

That was going to be funny as fucking hell.

Unfortunately, at this moment Nigel spotted his potential business partner, the one he and Adam had mainly come here today. He contemplated pretending to having missed him, but fucking asshole spotted him and waved enthusiastically.

"Do you want to come with me?" Nigel asked Adam, sending a death glare to Beth who started to protest. "I won't talk long to him."

Adam shook his head slowly.

"No. No, you go. I'll talk to Beth." He didn't sound happy about it, but Nigel still bristled. The darkness that had been mostly dormant in the last months began to swirl within him again, flooding his every cell.

He had no desire to see Adam's fucking exes.

He wanted even less to leave them together, even for several minutes.

"I'll be back in a moment," he said, his eyes staying on Beth. She shivered visibly, and satisfied with this reaction, Nigel moved away.

 

His deal seemed to be going well, but he could barely concentrate on conversation. His glance kept going back to Adam and the woman he was talking to, the woman he had once been in relationship with.

Whatever they were discussing, it made them both smile, and anger continued to simmer beneath Nigel's skin, ready to turn into full-blown fury in any second.

He couldn't stand it.

He'd fucking never considered killing women in so many ways and so vividly before.

Fucking Carol had been a nuisance, but Beth? Beth was a direct threat, even though she obviously didn't know Adam at all, meaning that she could never fucking appreciate him the way he deserved.

Fuck.

What a terrible evening.

And something told Nigel that from here, it was only going to get worse.

 

 

***

 

 

They didn't speak much that evening, mainly because of Adam. He was strangely silent when they got back home, and the monster permanently residing in Nigel's chest took it in the worst possible way.

Adam was never quiet. If everything was fine, Adam was chatty and animated, not turning into this fucking sad, silent shadow.

Beth had obviously fucked things up. Whatever she had said, Adam was questioning everything they had now, and Nigel had no idea what to do to stop him.

At least Adam hadn't minded sex, so Nigel tried to pour everything he felt in it, hoping against hope to prevent the disaster he felt was coming.

He knew he wouldn't let Adam go, but he also had no idea what would happen after Adam understood that.

Fucking Beth.

Maybe Nigel should have put a hit on her before they arrived to New York. Before she had a chance to sink her claws into his fucking relationship.

Their departure to New York had been hasty but efficient. Nigel had been too fucking relieved to have Adam stay with him despite everything, so he had managed to restrain himself and not kill Darko for his insane idea to send Adam to Henry's flat. Regardless of how dangerous it had been, the results turned out to be better than everything Nigel could have ever hoped for, so he had to admit that sometimes, Darko's ideas brought benefits.

The police had questioned Adam briefly and almost immediately lifted all suspicions off him. Nigel had been scrutinized much more thoroughly, but in the end, the potential charges were dropped.

Of course they knew who had killed Henry. But they had also been powerless, and Nigel couldn't help but revel in it.

The club they opened wasn't in the center, but it quickly became popular, and since the building they'd bought was bigger than the one in Flintridge, the space theme looked even more startling there.

Adam loved it. He'd spent the first several weeks in it, just watching people and absorbing their awed reactions.

Adam also loved his new job, and the apartment he and Nigel had chosen. It was on the top floor, with a huge window through which stars could be seen. Almost every night, Adam went to the balcony and watched them. Nigel joined him sometimes, and they spent hours like this, Adam wrapped around his telescope, Nigel wrapped around him.

Everything was wonderful, so fucking wonderful.

Until today.

Trying to ignore Adam's uncharacteristic silence, Nigel closed his eyes.

Gabi had stopped coming into his dreams entirely - Adam started to appear there instead, sometimes happy, sometimes sad, loving or hating, depending on whether it was a dream or a nightmare.

He sure as fuck was getting a nightmare tonight. 

 

He wasn’t sure what woke him. The room was still plunged into darkness, but Adam wasn't near him, and Nigel jumped immediately.

His heart fucking stopped when he saw Adam sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his gun.

"Darling," Nigel said hoarsely. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Adam smiled hesitantly.

"No. What are you doing with my gun — put it down, it's fucking dangerous."

Adam narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not stupid, you know," he said. "I learned how to unload the gun correctly before taking it."

Still, the fucking sight of Adam near the weapon made Nigel’s blood feeze from dread.

"What are you doing with it?" he asked again.

"I'm cleaning it."

"Why?" Nigel was at the loss for words. What had he fucking missed?

"I wanted to do something nice for you," Adam sighed, caressing the black metal. "Something to make you happy. You were so upset in the evening, it worried me. I didn't know what else to do, and you seem to really like your gun."

Bewildered, Nigel moved to him, glancing at the shining surface.

"It's fucking beautiful," he noted, and Adam looked up, beaming.

"Do you like it?"

"Of course I fucking do," putting the gun away, Nigel kissed him, all dark thoughts evaporating.

"Why were you so upset?" Adam murmured when they broke apart. "Did I do anything?"

"No. Fuck," laughing from the stupidity of everything, Nigel rubbed his face. "I was upset because I thought you still liked Beth. Loved her," he corrected himself.

Adam's mouth fell open.

"But she and I just talked," he said. "It wasn't romantic at all. She's seeing a man she's in love with, and I have you."

"I thought you were regretting it. Being with me. I thought you might consider going back to her."

Nigel was astonished when Adam pulled him by the hair sharply, his face set in disapproval.

"So you were jealous again," he announced solemnly. "I knew it. You are always jealous, and you are always wrong. Didn't I tell you what being an aspie means? Didn't I?"

"You did," Nigel murmured. "But maybe you should tell me again. To remind me."

 Nodding, Adam waited for him to curl up on his knees, a position they both took whenever Nigel was having another headache, comforting in its familiarity.

Nigel closed his eyes, letting Adam begin his gentle caresses.

"Being an aspie means a lot of things," he uttered, so calm that the last of Nigel's doubts started to fade. "There are some general signs, like inability to understand social cues, having difficulties with communication, and repetitive patterns of behavior. But people are different, so naturally, aspies are different as well. A lot of them are very honest, and I am, too. I do lie sometimes, but only when it's really necessary, like when I lied to the police to protect you. If I say that I love you, it means that I do love you. If I say that I will be loyal to you, it means that I _will_ be loyal. I will never betray you and I will never decide to leave you, because I love you and you make me happy and you love me too. I can't be interested in anyone else, it isn't possible to me, not when I'm already with you. So you don't have to ever worry about that. I will always stay with you. I promise. If you can't trust the words, you can trust who I am."

No music could possibly compare to the beauty of Adam's little speech. Nigel had already heard it several times, but it never stopped making his heart swell in blissful relief and sweet adoration.

Adam.

Adam was perfect.

Nigel didn't believe in perfect. But then again, Adam had always defied expectations.

He hadn't felt the impulse to get drunk in fucking ages. For the first time, he felt almost proud of his scars, and he lived in the state of constant fucking happiness.

He'd had to buy more suits to stop Adam from pestering him, their fucking fridge was stocked with guava juice, and his brain was filled with information about planets, stars, and space phenomena.

And Nigel couldn't imagine a fucking better life.

Reverently, he stroked Adam's cheek, and their lips met again, unwilling to separate.

This night, when he closed his eyes, Nigel knew that nightmares would no longer plague him.

 

_The End_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to start posting a lengthy Hannigram AU next week - hope to see you again :) Thank you!


End file.
